Here Comes the Son
by ThereGoestheFear
Summary: Stan Marsh is a successful Californian intent on repressing his past. But after rejecting and invitation to his sisters wedding, a twist of events may lead him back to the town and the people he's tried so hard to forget. Het and Slash, mild language.
1. Prologue

Authors Note: So, this is my first South Park story, let alone the first story I've yet to post on FF. I've had the idea for this story for awhile now and I finally had to post it. Now because this is my first story, and I'm highly critical of my writing, let me just let you in on some info:  
-This fic may or may not have **slash** (boyxboy) in it. It probably will, but you'll have to be patient if that's what you like. I don't even know how this thing will end, it's all sort of going to unwind as I go along. So, that being said, I hope you stick it out and can bear with me.  
_Disclaimer_: Stan Marsh and South Park belong to Matt Stone & Trey Parker. Of course!

**Prologue**

I can't say I grew up in a nurturing or even healthy environment, because let's face it, that would be a lie. I didn't come from a big city filled with vagabonds and demented child-stars like I reside in now though. I came from a small town in Colorado filled with hicks and a bunch of racist asses. That goes for the adults anyway; I don't remember us kids like that at all. In fact we were mostly tolerant of each other, mostly. We were thrown together a lot, and we didn't complain. It was with them, my friends, that I had learned the most about life. Though, now, I've done a real good job of forgetting about the town and those delirious pot heads within it. It hasn't mattered to me since I left that place in my sophomore year of college. I did everything I could do to repent my memories of that tiny speck on our nations map, and after awhile it worked. I'm happy now with the way my life turned out. I live just a couple miles north of Hollywood and I have everything I could possibly want. The car. The condo. The plasma tv. I got the works. South Park and it's snowy days are distant memories.

Well, this is what I thought, but try explaining that to your mom. You_ can't._ I've tried.

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August 19

"It would mean so much to your sister if you came Stanley; Chris's brother got caught up with something so he told me to tell you that the position of best man is up for grabs."

I smirked. "Oh yeah, Shelley will _love_ that. Mom I never even met this Chris guy and what is this, Shelley's third marriage?"

I could hear my mom's sigh, but this didn't make me waver. I went to Shelley's first wedding a few years ago in Vegas, and the second one in Denver. How would this one be any different? In a year Shelley will have another kid and in two years I'll be getting a call from my Xanax popping mother about how "insert name here" moved out and Shelley's a wreck.

"Fourth."

"Excuse me?" I asked with detached interest. For a moment I thought she swore at me.

"It's her fourth wedding. You missed last year when her and TJ got back together at the court house…I really thought that was going to last. He had made so much progress after that drug bust last February."

Yeah Shelley, he was definitely a keeper, that_ TJ. _I waited for my mother to continue, but as the wave of silence grew longer and I could still hear the sound of running water and clattering dishes, I sighed. "Mom, I never even met this Chris guy; I never even knew she and TJ broke up! I can't take this next week off to fly to Colorado and see a marriage that won't even last six months."

"Stanley, please. If you had come over for Christmas like me and your father had asked you to, then you would have met Christopher and been all up to date. You chose to stay in the city for some advertising project; your father was so disappointed," Silence. I could hear her swear something under her breath about damned knives but then she began again, "Listen sweetie, I don't want to force you to do anything. If you come I want you to come under the right terms, for Shelley's sake. Besides, I think that her deciding to get married at home shows that this marriage might have good promise. Don't you think so?" Her voice didn't sound too sincere, and her question didn't seem to require a response. To me, it seemed she already had the answer, but the poor woman obviously needed reassurance.

"Sure mom, I think your right…If I can get time off from this project I'll see if I can catch a plane up there; I'm not promising anything. But in all honesty, I don't think Shelley will miss me." There was even less sincerity in my voice then hers. I doubt I would be missed.

"Well alright Stan, but please know how much this will mean to all of us. If you can find the time, please come home. Love you hon."

She hung up, leaving me to think, though not very deeply at first. This conversation changed nothing; I wasn't going down to South Park even if Shelley was marrying Johnny Depp.

I stared at my feet and, after what seemed hours, I finally got up to set the phone back on the kitchen counter. The counter stool looked like a welcoming seat, so I half sat down half fell onto it.  
The phone call with my mother had been exhausting. The worst of this was that it of course would not be the last time I hear from her. My inbox would soon be filled with reminder emails, and there would be dozens of messages on my answering machine asking me if I bought a plane ticket yet. She wouldn't give up until after Shelly and whatever-his-name-is said "I do". Well, if that even _does_ happen.

My defensive move against Sharon would be pretty simple actually. All I had to do was ignore every attempt of hers to contact me until well after the date of the wedding, and then I would call her and play it cool. She'd hold a grudge against me at first but then I'll just FedEx her some JLo perfume and she'll forget about it.  
Although, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe that wasn't the best approach. Maybe I should just make the trek down to South Park to please my parents... and then they'll leave me be for awhile. Maybe it wouldn't be a big deal. Good idea?

Absolutely not. There was no way in Hell. No. No._ No._

With all this major internal conflict I couldn't help smirking at myself and all my ridiculousness. My dislike for my home town seemed irrational, I couldn't expect mom to understand, and I knew that everyone back there thought I was some arrogant asshole who couldn't lower himself to even visit his own family. Maybe I was better than them though. I actually made something of myself, which was more then a lot of them could say. I bet Kenny was a dead beat just like his father by now and...oh man.

_Kenny._ I shifted my thoughts. I began to feel a lump in my throat; a trip down memory lane was not something I really needed right now. Looking for a diversion I thought back to my mom; I began to consider just ignoring her calls again. I guess that was the best way to go.

As I mulled this over, a menacing hiss rose from beneath my stool suddenly, scaring the shit out of me and causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. I lowered my gaze to the hardwood floor, where a mass of orange and white fur was collected at my feet. Oh.

"My sister is insane Charlie. Maybe it's not alcohol she should quit, maybe it's just men." I muttered to my overweight tabby cat. He looked up at me and hissed out of boredom again.  
Yeah, Charlie hates me. Though he's often my only source of social contact during weekends, when I'm not out with Veronica or Stacy or Jenny my secretary...besides them and a few others I'm pretty much a recluse. I mean I hardly go to those office parties. Anyway, the ironic thing about me talking to Charlie is that he's deaf. I mean if there was a nuclear explosion across the street Charlie couldn't hear it, and never mind that he'd probably be dead. Still, he can always sense when I have something to say, I think. He's good company when he isn't clawing up my face.

I looked down at him in his offensive position, eying me as if he was gonna attack my leg. "I saved you from becoming road kill Charles, the least you can do is show some sympathy toward me. You never knew your family, you're lucky y'know." I sighed.

No response.

I watched as he got up and walked away, obviously not hearing a word I said. Stupid deaf cat.

I ran a hand through my hair (It felt greasy, I probably looked like shit) and decided to push this topic aside for now. I already spent too much time worrying about my mom and sister and...South Park. These weren't my problems; now a bunch of sleazy fast food reps who've been badgering me for a pitch for their new campaigndesign_ were _my problem.


	2. Motion Sickness

Authors Note: I meant to get this up a couple days ago, but I was procrastinating just a _bit_. Anyway, thank you to those who reviewed and watched this. I'm just happy someone took the time to actually read this! This chapter does jump around somewhat and is eventful, but it was intended because I had to set up for the rest of the story. Next chapter should be nice and consistent, but eventful nonetheless. Readers input is definitely welcomed.  
Disclaimer: Fortunately, I don't own South Park, Trey P. and Matt S. do.

**Chapter One: Motion Sickness**

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August 19

"Stan Marsh, you are my hero!"

I only half smiled at this remark. I was too damn fascinated with the city speeding past us outside the window.  
"Hm, really Sophie? I didn't even need to be there, you had them under control. Those corporate guys would have agreed to anything you said as long as you kept batting your eyes at them."

She gazed at me with slight contemptuousness, but then she wavered. "Whatever Stan, you really did save our asses. I mean, I have no idea how you were able to pull off making that deadline. I could kiss you right now…" She leaned in close to my ear, playfully stroking my shoulder. The scent of alcohol on her breath notably made my eyes water. Jesus, that woman could hold her vodka.

"That _would_ be pretty nice, but that might lead to something else and I think your husband would prefer you pay me the old fashion way, you know, a check. Don't you agree Sophie?" I pushed my hair from my eyes to see if she was watching me. She was, of course. I had to admit that Sophie _was_ pretty, hell, she was gorgeous. She was about my age, platinum blonde, blue eyes and a seducer of innocent men. She also was married to my boss, who had to be at least sixty. She stole him from his previous wife of forty five years about last September. She claims it was his charm and wit that made her fall in love, but I think it had something to do with the fact that he owns his own island and yacht. Probably...  
Still, no man at the office could bear to speak when she stopped by for her visit. One minute there would be nonstop dispute over a logo design but as soon as Sophie walked on the floor there was almost complete silence; every man in the room obviously contemplating all the things they would like to do with her that weren't exactly appropriate for an office space. With the exception of me; she wasn't my type.

She snorted. "You're such an ass."

I gave her a full smile this time. "So, how much is ol' Ronald gonna reward me for pulling this off? I got Taco Hut on board with us, so I hoped I would get that Vice-"

She cut me off. "I know I had told you that if you got this project then Ronny would give you the partnership but, something else has come up."

I looked at her incredulously; did I hear her right? I blew off that trip to Seattle last month for this? That's bullshit. "What are you talking about Sophie?"

She rolled her eyes and stirred her empty glass with her finger, and I couldn't help wondering if she was trying to scoop up the last drops or if it was a nervous habit. "You can get into this with Ronald, look we're here." She glanced up out the window as our car made a sharp turn into the "McLeod Advertising Agency" parking lot.

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I stood in my hallway on the second floor, trying repeatedly to get the key into the lock without jabbing myself. My hands shook and I silently cursed everyone from my mother to the President. Finally, I managed to open the door. I walked into my dark apartment, feeling around for the light switch. After several painstaking seconds I found it.  
I slumped to my sofa and kicked off my shoes without enthusiasm, trying to recall the meeting with Ronald this afternoon.

"_Stanley, you're like a son to me. You can do this, I've known you for three years now, and never have you failed to surprise me with what you can accomplish."_ That's what he said to me. That's what the bastard said to me.

Ugh. If he hadn't put it into such_ pretty_ words, I would have left his office that second without even bothering to listen. I would have quit. Well, probably not. My car lease was under Ronald McLeod's name, but I was going to get that changed soon anyway. Plus, it was true; he was like a father to me; a sober, sane father who didn't make derogatory remarks on national television. Would my real father at _least_ have given me the promotion? Yeah, I can at least give Randy that. Maybe.

Who was I kidding though? Sure, the absence of my promotion pissed me off. But what pissed me off the most was what I now had to accomplish to get the fucking promotion. That's right, not only did Mr. McLeod make me stand there and listen to all my unrewarded achievements, but he also gave me a new assignment. According to him it was the "Mother of all projects". Highly original.

And as much as I hated to admit it to myself…this was partly my fault, if not completely my fault. I put myself in a hole without knowing it.

A couple months ago I attended a meeting with Ronald who needed help deciding if we should buy out a smaller ad agency a couple states away. The agency had been doing pretty badly and Ronald, being the philanthropist that he is, decided he wanted to put it out of it's misery and buy it; make it better or sell it for a higher price. He'd done it successfully with another company in the past. However he was hesitant because this would be an out of state purchase, and therefore wanted the input of his most trusted of partners: Myself and this other asshole, Jim Finley. Jim disagreed with the whole ordeal, but I being the kiss ass I was told Mr. McLeod it was a great idea.  
He obviously liked my answer better. "Exactly, what's life without some risks, right my boy"

He didn't discuss this issue directly with me afterward, but I figured he was keeping it hush until he made the final decision. So, this afternoon I wasn't too surprised when he mentioned expanding and making our union with the other agency official, but what caught me off guard was that I now apparently had something to do with it...

"Stan my boy," he started off, his eyes not even looking at me but at whatever he was working on at his desk, "You're aware that I've been meaning to start a new branch of 'McLeod Advertising' for these past few months, correct?

I looked at him, cautiously. "Yes sir."

He nodded his head in response and then fumbled through his papers, then glanced up. "Oh, sorry son, just going through some complicated stuff here." He eyed the folder on his desk. So did I; divorce papers perhaps?

I smiled. "Of course sir, but you were saying something about a new branch?"

"Oh yes, yes! You see, everyone has been advising me to keep the branch within California. But isn't the point of a new branch to_ branch out_? A different state, that's what I had in mind…" He looked up at me, obviously trying to analyze my reaction. I admit I had no reaction yet. The boss was informing me of some good news for the company that I possibly had something to do with. I just wanted to see what that was exactly. I motioned for him to go on. "Well specifically, I wanted to expand by buying another ad agency. Again, I was advised against this. But then you boy, you told me exactly what I wanted to hear. McLeod wouldn't be brought down by a dying company, no, in fact we would be the ones that revive it… just like you said!"

I raised an eyebrow, because I was honest to God confused. "Sir I never said-"

"Oh hush Stan. You're not letting me get to the part where I need you." I remained silent now, interested to hear what he had to say the way teenage boys focused on the lesson during Sex Ed, though it couldn't be _quite _as interesting. "Well it's official, the company was close to bankruptcy and they had no choice but to accept my offer. Sure they still had to let a lot of people go, but ultimately they made the right choice. Callahan Advertising is now the new face of McLeod Adverting ."

Callahan Advertising? Never hard of it."I _see._"

"The problem is that for the next step I need a rep to oversee all the affairs over there until they're in order. It'll take a couple weeks at least, and I need someone who can function with these simple Colorado folks. That's where you come in Stan."

"Sir, I appreciate your trust in me, but I really have no experience and-wait, did you say Colorado? I heard you right, sir? You said _Colorado_?"

"Denver to be exact, now stop interrupting me, _please._ Stan, if you do this for the company, then I am promising you the Vice President spot. If you decline it's more then likely Jim will get the position…okay, now you may decide if you can do this."

I began to feel a bit light headed. Colorado, did it have to be Colorado, and Denver at that? It was only a couple miles from....but the _Vice-Presidency._ "I'll do it sir. I'll represent our company, I'll-I mean- I'll try at least and..." I tried to remember what I was rambling on about in vain, but my mind couldn't stop racing. Seriously, what had just happened?

"Glad to hear it! The sooner the better in this case. I'll have your secretary book you a plane for tonight." He smiled at me. I wanted to throw the glass paper weight on his desk at his head. Hard.

"Sir tomorrow's Saturday."

Yes, and?"

"Well I had some plans that I don't think I can cancel, so maybe next week? Wait, better yet how about the week after?"

"What kind of plans, Stan?"

"A sweet sixteen party." A sweet sixteen party? I'd been watching too much Vh1. He wouldn't buy it. What a stupid excuse.

"Who do you know that's sixteen?"

"Oh just a friend's daughter, and I have to be the designated driver anyway so..."

"Stan. Go home. Pack. You're plane will leave tonight."

Did I have a choice? Of course not. "Mhm, um… okay sir. I won't fail you." He flicked his hand impatiently at me and returned his attention to that folder on his desk. He didn't seem to realize that a few feet away from him I was hyperventilating, then again he easily could have been ignoring me. I turned away before he could realize I was still there and walked out of his office, out of the building and down to a car that was waiting for me in a daze. It wasn't until we had even got onto the freeway that I realized I forgot to pick up this week's paycheck from my secretary.

I'd been home for about an hour now. But I hadn't begun packing and I didn't attempt to call the airport to make sure my ticket was ready and waiting for me. Instead I sat on that sofa for about an hour, fumbling with the remote, and silently recalling every detail of the meeting. When I committed myself to something, I went through with it. I knew that even with all my bitching and sulking, in the end I was going to end up on that plane to Denver; not even ten miles from, well, South Park. Despite that, of course I had to go. Sadly, the future of my career in this city was pretty much depending on this promotion. If I bailed out, the position would go to Jim Finley. Jim Finley? Like hell I was about to let that happen.

Unfortunately me sitting here and procrastinating wasn't exactly helping the situation. I had to pack, I had to get ready. Reluctantly, I stood up and looked around. Where to start? Thankfully, my thoughts were interrupted by a sudden complicated melody coming from my pocket. I grabbed for the phone cautiously, wondering for a moment if I ever gave my mother my cell number. I didn't think I had. I looked at the call number and a rush of relief feel over me as I noticed the numbers familiarity. I pressed 'talk'.

"Hello?"

"Stan, where are you? You rushed out without getting your check, are you okay?" My secretary, Jenny. Her voice was worried, but calm. She was more professional at her job then I was.

"I'm at home, and I'm fine. Ronald just gave me some news and I was sort of wrapped up in it so-"

"Oh my God, you got Vice President, didn't you? Oh Stan you deserve this so much! You've been working so hard for these past five years. You were always Mr. McLeod's favorite too, so it was not surprise!"

She shouldn't have cut me off. Her congratulatory tone was painful to listen to. "Jen, I didn't get the VP spot. Not_ yet_. Thanks though." I said slowly, carefully, not wanting to kill her buzz too fast.

I realized she had stopped typing now. It took a little longer for her to answer. "Oh. Stan, I'm sorry... I shouldn't have gone ahead and assumed." She sighed, and then there was an awkward pause, "Did Jim get it?"

"No, and he's not going to. I just have to go oversee our new office for awhile and Mr. M said it was all mine. It's not a big deal. Speaking of it though, did you get a call about a plane ticket?"

"Yeah I did. Colorado, right? It's nice that he's at least letting you get some time off to be with your family. You're going to be best man right?"

I stared at my phone dumbfounded. Jenny was always pretty in tune with me, but not that in tune. How could she know? "What are you talking about? My family? Jenny, this is a business trip. I got drafted into being the overseer of our new branch. How did you find out about the wedding though?"

I heard her typing pick back up. "Well after you left, your mom called and asked me if you were there. I told her you had just stepped out. She asked me to leave a message about wanting to know if you were still planning on not going home for the wedding next weekend. I _assumed_ the plane ticket I had to confirm meant you changed your mind. I told her about it and now she's expecting you. She was so excited. Your mom's really nice y'know. I don't know why you never accept her calls."

I proceeded to stare at my phone. Yes, I was going to Colorado. No, I was not planning on telling my parents. "Jenny, please do me a favor and stop assuming things. And stay out of my business. You do know this means I'll be letting you go?" Regrettably, I could never fire Jenny. She was an unnaturally amazing secretary, when she wasn't nosing her way into my affairs.

I could almost actually hear her eyes roll. "Stan you won't need to be at the office 24/7. Just make a special appearance every few days and make them feel inferior. You're good at that. You can afford to spend some time with your family. If you'd excuse me now, I have to cancel the rest of your meetings and appointments for the next few weeks. Will there be anything else you need Mr. Marsh?"

"Would you mind coming by to feed Charlie every couple days? Maybe keep him some company? You owe me."

She laughed. "You pay me, so sure. Just keep the key under the ceramic turtle. Remember your flight leaves at seven thirty tonight so hurry up and pack. I suggest taking a paper bag in case you get motion sickness. Take your asthma medication too. Goodbye Stan. Make us proud."

I felt like I was going to vomit. "I already am motion sick, Jen. Thanks." We hung up in unison, and I tossed my cell onto the sofa. I put my hands on my face and moaned, exhausted. There was a bigger force against me here. My mom knew I was going to Colorado. She thought I was going home. A home I hadn't been to in six years. If I went I would be forced to socialize with people from my past.  
Vague faces permanently burned to my brain resurfaced.

I moaned in misery again, but I knew I could do it. I would go home. I had to drive down the familiar streets until I got to my drive way. I'd bang on the door, face my estranged family, make small talk and get the hell out of there. They'd realize I wasn't the person they remembered. I'd make it clear I was there for work and I couldn't make it to any functions where I might bump into anyone. This was going to work. Yes it was.

I was dead set on this plan. I had to make a point, and avoidance obviously wasn't working. I felt good about it too.

Charlie stared at me from the kitchen counter. I must have looked odd, muttering to myself and pacing and all. I had no time to care what my cat thought of me at the moment, so I made my way to my bedroom to finally pack.

I was going to show Mr. McLeod that I was ready to be his partner after all these years. Not to be cocky, but I was only 27 and still the best damn advertiser he had in his company. Callahan Advertising was going to be a cinch.

But first, I was going on down to South Park. I couldn't run away forever.

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August 20/6:15 a.m. **Denver** **Airport.**

"Sir? You forgot your luggage."

"What?" A young flight attendant motioned toward the compartment above my seat, which sure enough still held my suitcase. "Oh thanks. I wouldn't want to forget that."

She gave me a polite "why the hell am I working here" smile and turned to warn a woman who was exiting the plane that her son was still sleeping in their seat. Well, at least I didn't forget a kid. _I win._ I struggled to get my luggage down from the over head compartment, cursing and getting dirty looks from the people behind me along the way. Personally, I could care less about them. I was taking my sweet time; anything to make getting to South Park that much longer.

"Hey buddy, we would like to get off this plane before it heads back to L.A., you know." The guy who had the nerve to complain was some forty year old bald guy with one kid in front of him and two peeking from behind. I could also see the wife, who looked put out with her husband already. He looked like he was having a bad day. Who was I to make his life any worse?  
"Oh yeah, sorry" I moved onto my seat to pull my luggage out, which was considerably harder, but at least I didn't get knocked in the face by some pissed off father in his mid-life crisis. By the time I had my suitcase out of that damn compartment, the plane was empty. One flight attendant stood by the door with an impatient plastic smile. I shot a fake smiled right back and proceeded down the steps, where I was hit with a surprise. It was snowing. It was August, and it was_ snowing._

I absentmindedly began to make my descend to the ground, still in in awe at the bizarre summer weather.  
"Is there a problem sir?" The flight attendant put a polished hand on my shoulder, and I suddenly realized I had stopped again, halfway down the ramp. "It's snowing." I mumbled. She looked at me with a bored expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, um, that happens sometimes at this altitude."

Duh. "Oh, yeah, I know that." I shrugged indifferently, really not caring to look like any more of an idiot.

She smiled. "Very good sir. Have a very nice day, and thanks for traveling with us." She flipped her hair as she turned to leave; it hit my face, obviously on purpose.

Such wonderful service. I mad a mental note of her name tag: Kelly. I gave the fat guy the benefit of the doubt, but Kelly here was definitely going to get some complaints. I smiled, content with myself, and then began toward the airport luggage department.

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Everything was so white and unfamiliar as I sped through the empty highway away from Denver. The car I had rented outside the airport was ridiculously expensive, and also had a ridiculous amount of horse power. Lucky for me McLeod was taking care of all the expenses. Did Jim Finley get to rent a Mercedes? I doubted it.

I was on the side of some mountain, with a wall of rock on my side and a constant fence of green pine trees on my passenger side. Snow covered mostly everything. Surely I remembered summer back when I was a kid? No, now that I though of it, I just remembered the snow, the thick coat my mom made me wear, and my poof ball hat that I didn't take off until well into freshman year of high school. For a moment I tried to remember if my mom had thrown that hat away, before suddenly remembering I had given it to someone before high school had ended. A face suddenly popped up in my mind and I bit my lip, desperately wanting to redirect my thoughts. This face gave me a different dread than the others, because this one I hadn't left. They left me. It's odd that the memory of this particular person still made me nervous, because it _was_ so long ago. I sped up the car, trying not to focus on what I would find when I got _there_. Hopefully nothing. I would go straight to my families house, give my mom a big NO to whatever she would ask, give Shelley my best wishes and then be on my way back to Denver. I had to admit I was pretty good at strategies.

Out of habit I put my hand on my head, but all I felt was a mop of shaggy hair. I looked into the rear view mirror and analyzed my reflection. My black hair was messy, like always, and went down midway past my ears in a shaggy style. _When was the last time I had a haircut?_ I noted the sideburns I had going on. Well, at least I remembered to shave, although, now my relatively pale skin was twice as noticeable. This is also pretty weird considering I'm a resident of southern California. It's not like I spent a lot of time at the beach or using tanning booths, which, have become wildly popular among the guys in my office. Though they have reasons to tan, they have girlfriends and often spend their weekends at resorts and on yachts. Not that I was jealous or anything, it's just that it's what a slick advertising agent in Hollywood was expected to do. Oh, well. I'm not going to be the one with melanoma in ten years.

I made more analysis of my appearance and wondered if my mother would lecture me for being too skinny or having my hair to long. I guess it doesn't matter, she'll find something wrong with me. I finally took my eyes off the mirror remembering I was driving on snow covered road on a Colorado mountain side, and the last thing I needed was to drive off a cliff. Then again, it might mean never making it to South Park. That was definitely a positive. Good job thinking on the bright side of things, Stanley. I smirked in spite of myself.

Then, I heard the screeching before I even saw the truck.

I had looked away from the mirror with barely enough time to think. I quickly realized that this road was ONE lane, and now an enormous SUV, that looked to be more appropriate for a military base then the side of a mountain, had rounded the corner and was sliding straight for me and my undersized Mercedes. Unfortunately I remembered I was on the side of an icy cliff hundreds of feet high, and I knew my chances of getting out of this without a scratch was pretty slight. But I managed to catch a glimpse of a space on my right outlined by a couple trees, so I took my only chance.

I made an abrupt swerve away from the truck and missed it by barely an inch, if that. My car lurched off the road and landed with a jolt in a huge hole filled with mud and God knows what else. I could hear the truck drivers enraged cussing as he sped by, but all I could concentrate on was that my head was searing with pain after I had managed to hit my head against the steering wheel, and now my rental Mercedes was in a ditch, off a highway, a couple miles away from the Godforsaken town of South Park. Oh _fuck._

My head pounded as I sat in the car, fumbling for my phone. I put one hand against my forehead, feeling a gush of something warm and sticky, and as I brought my hand down I saw through slightly blurry vision that my fingers were covered in blood.  
Shit. Shit. Shit.  
That's when the dizziness set in and I had the sudden impulse to faint.

As my consciousness began to fade, I felt surprisingly calm. My body seemed to be on fire, but it oddly felt nice against the cold Colorado air. I failed to find my cell. Due to what I was thinking before the truck rounded the corner, this all felt ironic.  
Blackness began to cloud my vision as I noticed in the rear view an ancient pick up truck suddenly pull up on the road and someone getting out. The driver who was closing his door and heading toward my car was only a vague silhouette. Desperately trying to focus, I noticed a shock of blonde hair and concerned blue eyes.

They only took a couple steps toward my car before everything went completely black.

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**Note from author:  See what I mean by jumping around? At any rate, I should have chapter two up soon and you'll finally see some familiar faces and places. Also, anyone else curious as to who Stan gave his beloved hat to, and why is he so reluctant to think about the people he left? Guilt perphaps? Hm....**


	3. He still has it

Authors Note: So first off, thank you again to those who took the time to review! It makes me all the more eager to update. I also want to add that I'm not going to give the date and time if it's obvious in the story when and where the scene is. If I thinks it might help avoid confusion then I will add the info when necessary. Okay, so enjoy!  
Disclaimer: It should be clear, by now, that I don't own South Park or it's residents. Yup.

**He still has it**

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"Mr. Marsh, can you hear me? Stan?"

The voice was familiar, very familiar. It brought back a rush of memories, but they weren't too clear, just vague outlines of adolescence.

"Stan I know you're awake…you've stopped snoring."

Without opening my eyes, I grunted. "I don't snore."

"Believe what you want, but we had to move you out of the emergency room because you were disturbing the other patients." Though my eyes were closed, I knew he was sneering at me. Fucking Token.

I opened my eyes to a blindingly bright yellow room. Token Black stood by my bed with his "Grey's Anatomy" ensemble on. He had the long coat on and the stethoscope hanging around his neck, the works.

"A doctor? Huh, that figures." I looked from him and back to the walls of the room. My head was foggy and it seared with pain. It didn't help that I was hear though. I had obviously made it to South Park, but how long had I been here? Did my parents know?  
"The ditch, my car…the truck." I muttered to myself, trying to piece along the puzzle of how I and why I was in a puke yellow hospital room being stared down by Token Black.

He smiled, which made me hate him more. Token was always a decent guy, but I couldn't stand him or his face. He played football with me in high school, and I was once blamed for purposely knocking him into the bleachers, breaking his wrist and thus costing us the game and me my spot on the team. If people had paid closer attention they would have realized he had slipped on the icy grass and that _I _just so happened to be standing next to him. With all the shit I got for it though, if I had the chance to go back to that moment in time I would have shoved him into the packed stands with all I had. It would probably have been one of my fonder memories of High School.

"Stan, are you alright?" he shined a tiny flashlight into my eyes but flinched back as I grabbed for it. I realized it was a bad move on my part when a burning sensation shot up my arm. "Ugh, shit! Token would you please cut this awkward staring crap and just tell me what the hell I'm doing here and why I'm connected to an IV? And where are my clothes? My cell phone?!". The unfamiliar machine beside me began to make louder and faster beeping noises that mimicked my heart rate. I felt like I was going to be sick again.

Token had taken a few steps back and recomposed himself, obviously not surprised at my sudden outburst. I took it he had patients yelling at him quite a bit. He shook his head and sighed dramatically. "Well Stan, you got into a car accident and were found on the side of the mountain passing. It was a bad move you know, the mountain passing is usually only taken by locals who know how to drive on it without ending up in a ditch. Tourists are advised to take the highway that goes around the mountain."

It was becoming much more obvious why I had always hated this guy. "I'm not a fucking tourist Dr. Black. I've driven through that stupid mountain hundreds of times."

"Yet here you are in Hells Pass, connected to an IV with a bandage wrapped around your head. But sorry I _offended_ you," he scoffed, "Maybe you've just been coddled driving down the paved streets of Beverly Hills, but no one here drives quite as carelessly as those in California." He cleared his throat and took his eyes off me, flipping through the giant clipboard he held in his hands. The fact that this dick was the first person from South Park that I met after all these years only confirmed that I was right to to despise this place. Then again, it could have been worse. I could have met a Dr. Broflovski here today. I twitched rather nervously at the thought.  
Token interrupted my thinking by announcing some news I could have lived without. "Your parents were here," he droned on, "They were in the waiting room for awhile but I had to ask them to leave after your father began to violently threaten some of the nurses. God knows why. Anyway, your mother was pretty excited you were here, well not _here_, but you know what I mean. She told me to call her as soon as you woke up."

I groaned. "Wonderful. Just what I need." I attempted to get up but Token stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder, motioning for me to stay down. "You hit your head hard Stan, and while the MRI scans showed that it was nothing serious we want to make sure you exert as little energy as possible right now. After all you've been out now for almost six hours."

The room began to spin. "Six hours? Shit, Token, what time is it?"

"It's_ Dr. Black_, and it's about three in the afternoon. It's Saturday." He didn't look at me as he talked but kept his eyebrows raised and his eyes on the clipboard in his hand, pretending to review it. He didn't want to look at me. Could he still hold a grudge against me after all these years? It's probably not below him.

"What time did I come in?" I bemoaned. I put my hand on the part of my head I had earlier gathered blood from, but only felt a giant layer of gauze now.

"Kenny dropped you off at about ten this morning." He still didn't look at me. I thought I hadn't heard him correctly.

"Kenny, um, M-McCormick?" I stammered disbelievingly. I moved my gaze back to the wall and tried desperately to remember back to when the accident occurred, the rusted truck and bright blue eyes. I hadn't talked to Kenny in over half a decade, and our grand reunion was on the side of the road in a ditch. I'd wondered if he'd truly been worried, or if to him it was just some stupid out-of-stater who didn't know how to drive on an icy road. I looked back at Token, waiting for him to say something, anything.

Token looked at me, ignoring my stunned and agitated glare. "Yeah, that's right. He's been working the town's tow truck for going on three years. You're lucky he was on his way home from the lot. He rushed you here, and if I'm not mistaken, was the one that called your parents. Speaking of whom, I should call them and see if they can pick you up now."

I didn't know what to say, or if there was anything to say. I was drowning in my own anxiety. This trip was home was suppose to be short and sweet. I was suppose to be in Denver right now. What if Ronald was trying to get a hold of me? What if Jenny had contacted the police and there was a search team out there for me right now? What if Charlie ate my parakeet? What if I get stuck here and I run into someone else I knew? Geez, did I _always_ sound this whiny?  
I finally caught hold of myself. I sighed. "Listen Token, I'm kind of in a bind here. I need to get to Denver. I changed my mind, I don't want to see my parents. Can't you just get me my car? Can you also find my cell phone and my clothes?"

He shook his head. "You're not in a state to be driving at the moment, besides, Kenny has your car down at his lot. He said it was in pretty bad shape and he hopes you have good insurance."

"It's a rental."

He ignored me and continued."I believe your parents have all your possessions as well. So _you_ listen, I _should _be making you stay overnight for further analysis, but I figured that since the tests said you were fine and you hadn't been home in so long that I would let your parents handle you. However, if you aren't planning on going home I have to insist you stay here over night. Am I being clear? Tell me if I'm not."

I chewed my bottom lip until I was sure it was bleeding. Token stood there, waiting for me to answer. He's such an asshole. "Fine. Fine. That's _fine_. Call my parents. Do what you want, just get me the hell out of here."

He grinned at my misery. "Good. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine for the wedding next weekend. Best man right? How nice of you."

"Wait, no I'm not-"

"Well, good luck Stan. A nurse will be in here momentarily to help you change." He cut me off, and with a quick nod, he disappeared behind the enormous white door. I managed to get a glimpse of the busy hallway outside.

The room felt menacing with only me lying there in the stupid bed with and an IV in my arm. Every time the machinery beside me made a beep I wanted to tear it out of the wall and throw it out the window. I was sure I was on the second floor so if it hit someone that would just be a bonus.

I realized how ridiculous I sounded. Still, I was getting more and more angry that I was here, in South Park, stuck in a hospital room that I couldn't leave until my parents came to pick me up. To add to this my parents probably think I'm here for my sister's wedding because they don't know how to answer their fucking phones. Certainly anyone would be just a bit frustrated.

I was contemplating just jumping out the window myself when the door creaked open and a nurse walked in. She had shoulder length red hair, a fitting white smock and pink lips that curved up and smiled at me.

"Hello Mr. Marsh, ready to get out of here?"

The nurse held neatly folded clothes and shoes. _My_ clothes and shoes actually. The ones I had worn during the accident. As she unfolded my jacket, I couldn't help but stare. Not at my clothes, but at her. She handed over my clothes gently, and she looked at me with such a familiar smile. Why couldn't I remember her name? I watched as she walked toward that beeping machine, quietly cursing it. Then it came back.

"Red? Is that _you_?" Yeah! It had to be her.

The nurse pursed her lips and looked at her feet nervously. "Well, um, I didn't know if you'd remember me. Looks like you didn't hit your head _that _hard then."

I smirked; glad to see someone I actually had good memories with. Oh Red. "I wouldn't say that, the way my head throbs you'd think I actually did get hit by that truck."

"Well it's a good thing you didn't. The whole town's buzzing about you y'know. I wouldn't be surprised if you had whole paparazzi down in the lobby."

I was somewhat surprised at this, but I should have known better. Six hours was plenty of time for the news of my arrival to spread around town. "I guess this town will never change, huh?"

"Hah! You know it." Red looked at me and giggled, and then proceeded to unhook me from the machinery. I winced when she pulled out the IV from my arm. "Okay, well that's all done. Time to get you out of that awful hospital smock-"

"I can change myself," I sputtered quickly. I watched her wide smiled turn to a thin line.

"Dr. Black said you had a concussion and that you'd need help getting ready, Mr. Marsh."

"You can call me Stan, Red. I've known you since elementary school. And thank you, but I can get ready. If you could just wait outside..."

She looked at me hard and made a "humph" sound with her throat. "Alright, but if you collapse or get dizzy then just call me. I'll be outside. Do you need help getting up?"

"No thanks Red," I muttered. She shrugged and turned to leave muttering something about how I'm still as stubborn as ever, but before she could I remembered something. "Wait Red, could you tell Kenny thanks for me…for helping me out of that ditch."

She looked at me with confusion. "What do you mean?"

Now I was confused. What did she mean 'what do you mean'? "Kenny, you two are married now, right? I mean I remember when he proposed and all-"

She cut me off. "Stan that was years ago! Oh gosh, you had me worried there that maybe you had suffered some brain damage after all."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean by that? I thought you guys got married, that's kinda what you do when someone proposes."

"Not always," she said in a matter-of-fact way, "Things didn't work out. I thought he would have told you." She stood there in the door way looking at me but looking away every few seconds to avoid my stare, obviously feeling awkward.

I somehow felt bad for her, so I looked away. Back in college Kenny and Red were inseparable. Red had been the one that seemed to rescue Kenny from being an alcoholic and abusive bastard like his father. They had a plan to live in their car and travel the country protesting protests and to live off Red's paintings. Sure, a lot of 18 year olds say they're going to do that stuff, but Red and Kenny meant it. They were going to get married and eventually open a restaurant or bowling alley or _something. _I was going to be their best man but…

I looked hesitantly back up at Red. "No, we didn't keep in contact after I moved. You guys were so together though, I just never would have known that…" I couldn't finish. I wondered how hard Kenny took it when it was over. Who helped him through it? Maybe, Kyle. Again, my thoughts shied away from _his _name and I winced.

She gave me a half-hearted smile. "Sometimes you need more than just love Stan; you of all people should know that. Now, hurry up. Knock on the door when you're finished."

**--------------------------------------------------------------**

I took another drag from the cigarette that Red had reluctantly given me. She probably figured it would keep me quiet and less likely to continue our earlier conversation. I had no intention of continuing it though, it didn't concern me after all.

Red and I waited silently int front of Hells Pass Hospital for whichever of my parents to pick me up. Red insisted I sit down, so here I was sitting in a wheelchair freezing my ass off. She kept her hands firmly on the chairs handles as if just waiting for me to make a break for it, rolling down the street. I considered actually trying it, just to see what she'd do. She'd probably let me go. That was Red though, she was always one of the coolest girls in South Park, which was probably why I dated her for most of my freshman year of High School. Even after she dumped me, we still stood good friends. In fact, in our first year of junior college me, Red and Kenny were scarcely apart from each other. Part of this was due to the fact that her and Kenny were obsessed with each other. It was kind of unhealthy actually.

As the snow fell lightly around us, I could hear and feel Red violently shivering. I turned my head and glanced at her. "Do you want my jacket or something?"

She shook her head. "No thanks."

I turned back to stare at the parking lot and inhale the last of my cigarette. Smoking is a disgusting habit, but I love it. The cigarette butt made a crackling noise as I dropped it beneath my foot. I took a deep, impatient breath. "My dad still has the same car, right?"

Red didn't speak but nodded.

Dammit, _talk_ Red. I turned my body half way around to stare up at her. I watched as she looked at me and then looked away. "What is it?" she finally asked.

"A nurse? _Seriously_?"

She snorted impatiently. "Oh, so Mr. Big Shot doesn't approve of my career choice? How can I live with myself now?"

I turned and faced the parking lot again, not knowing how to react. "There's nothing wrong with being a nurse, I just never thought that you would give up on your dream. What about your painting?"

She was silent, and I could feel the tension around us now, as if we were trapped in a really small bubble. "I wasn't good at it okay. I needed a back up. Drop it, please."

"You were great at it though. I still have that portrait you did of me and-"

"Stan, you can stop pretending to be so interested. You stopped being interested a long time ago if I recall correctly."

Her tone was so even and flat now. I didn't get it, wasn't she happy to see me just a couple minutes ago in the room? I must have hit a nerve.

The wind blew hard against my face, causing me to shiver. "Huh, I could definitely use my old hat about now," I panted.

Red coughed. "Well then maybe you shouldn't have given it to him if you were going to complain about it," she paused hesitantly, "Kyle still has it y'know. That's what you were wondering right?"

Dammit Red, I was just trying to make light conversation. "Oh, uh, not really. I was just cold," I sniffed.

"There's your dad." Red pointed at the truck that was tearing into the parking lot at an illegal speed. The car dashed in front of cars that were pulling out causing an uproar of horns and car alarms. It headed right for us, and for a moment I thought it would actually come onto the sidewalk, but it slowed down as it approached. Like Red and Token, the car brought back some memories as well. Welcome memories for once.

When the car finally came to a stop, Red began pushing me toward it. I watched silently as the driver got out of the car. He didn't attempt to walk over, but waited until Red and I made it to him. I looked at my feet, still noticing the familiar smell of beer and cashews that was always associated with my father.

"Stanley."

"Dad."

"The mountain passing, are you stupid or something?"

"I guess."

"Okay, well, welcome home son."


	4. Hotel in Denver

Authors Note: So I should have been work for school, but I got _really_ into this chapter. I hope it doesn't seem to rushed... I'm actually trying to go with a slower pace for the story, but it will pick up I promise. Please bare with me... And again, thanks to those who comment! I love the insight you guys have. Which reminds me, if I'm being sort of vague on who it is Stan is actually avoiding, it's on purpose. Technically he wants to avoid everyone, but there are certain people from his past who actually know why and who inspired his desire to escape his dysfunctional town. A certain mysterious Jewish kid who's avoiding us might know something behind it.  
Disclaimer: I still don't own South Park. Nope.

**Chapter Three: Hotel in Denver**

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I watched reluctantly, silently, as Randy made his way down a busy main street. Every so often I could see people dwelling from within a boutique or a restaurant. It was safe to say I didn't recognize anyone walking down the street, but I couldn't say the same for them. The windows on my dad's car were ridiculously clear, and the pedestrians used this as an advantage to stare at me with unapologetic gaping. Somehow I wished I could be a kid again, and slump down into the passenger seat so only the top of my head could be seen.

"Aw dammit," my dad cursed to himself. His hands had stood firmly on the wheel since we left the hospital parking lot, except for now as he forcefully rolled down the window, letting the painfully cold air into his already freezing car. We slowed down as he shoved his head out the window to yell "Get off my ass STEPHEN!" at the car behind us who had been tailing us since we passed the bar. The driver in the car panicked and took a sudden illegal turn to avoid my father's glare. Randy pulled his head back inside and rolled up the window. His hand took its place on the steering wheel once more as he stared out at the road. "Shit," he muttered, "This town is filled with weirdos. What is everyone so hyped up about? And what's with the staring?"

"I think those weirdos are staring at me," I coughed.

Randy looked at me as if I had just said something highly offensive. "Well, _I'm _staring at you Stan. Does that make _me_ a weirdo?"

"No, dad, you just said they were weirdos and I-"

"This is your home town, Stan. And these people are hard workers. Have more respect for Christ sake."

"But you called them weirdos, I was just agreeing."

"And why would they be staring at you anyway? Stop being so assuming. Me and your mother raised you better."

"Fine, I'm sorry. They're probably staring at your mustache, because it's so symmetrical... and professional. That's got to be it."

He took his eyes away from me and concentrated on the road again. "No one appreciates sarcasm, Stan."

It's strange how ten minutes in a car with my dad could make feel like I'm sixteen again. He hadn't changed at all, and I like to think I had. But the way we sat there, shit, you'd think I'd never left.

I glanced down from the window and analyzed my cell phone on my lap. My dad had handed it back to me when we got into the car, and none to my surprised it had 27 unread messages, all from Jenny. I had listened to the first six, and it was clear that with each call her voice sounded more urgent and upset, worried. I would have called her back already, but A, I didn't have any cell service down here in Hicksville, and B, I wanted to wait to talk to her without my father breathing down my neck.

After a couple minutes I finally looked up from my useless phone, and realized that the shops and businesses had been replaced my run down houses. I couldn't tell a single of the house apart from its neighbor. The only difference between them was color, barely. I watched silently as the we passed each identical house, knowing that the one we were looking for was around the next corner.

"So, what time did you get in this morning?" My dad broke the silence, but not the awkwardness.

I kept my eyes on the houses. "I dunno, about five or six I think."

He gasped. No, really. He did. "We were waiting for a call. I would have picked you up."

"I actually had to take care of some stuff. I had to check into my hotel, rent a car, rob a bank, get breakfast. That's why I didn't even get here until ten."

"A hotel in Denver? Huh? You didn't need to go through that. If you'd just called then your grand entrance back home wouldn't have been that McCormick kid dragging you through the emergency room. Besides, I thought you were staying with us. Wouldn't it be easier?"

I sighed. I might as well get my dad out of the way; when it comes to my parents concern for my participation in family events, my dad was the lesser of the two evils. "I'm actually here on business in Denver, Dad. So, staying here would make things harder. I was coming here to tell you guys that."

"Couldn't you just have called to say that?" he paused, "You're mom thinks you're here for the wedding, are you even coming?"

"I may be too busy, but, maybe."

My dad laughed. "So in other words, you're not coming."

I didn't know what to say. Didn't I come down here just to make that clear? I shrugged.

"Shit, well, _you're_ telling your mother," he said with a hint of irony. "Here we are."

We pulled up to a frosty driveway that looked to be freshly shoveled. Randy parked, but neither one of us attempted to get out. I gave the house I grew up in a once over. I noticed a skateboard propped up against the garage and a few other carelessly abandoned toys around the yard. A telltale sign of Shelley's residence here.

"You got Evan working hard I see."

My dad nodded. "Yeah, your sister did a good job with that one. He offered to shovel the driveway. He's nothing like you were."

"Yeah, what is he, seven now?"

"He's ten. He also was really excited to hear his Uncle Stan was coming down."

I sighed. "Can we just get this over with?" I finally opened the door and climbed out of the car. As I waited for my dad to get out, I shoved my hands in my pocket and took a look around the street. I could have really used a cigarette then. I could have used a working cell phone actually. Then again, I could have used a gun to shoot myself.

"Okay, c'mon Stan. If you stay there the mob will find you, because, you know how much people enjoy staring at you," My dad called, and I turned to see he was already up the steps with the key in the door. I hesitantly trudged after him.

Here we go.

The door was stubborn, but eventually, with some kicks and cussing, my father managed to push it open.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Waiting for us inside was a collage of screaming, laughing, an oven timer going off, and my sister struggling to focus while talking on the phone. However, as soon as we actually stepped inside it seemed that everyone, even the oven timer, froze in place. Well, except for Shelley who was arguing, or rather screaming at someone on the phone who apparently made a typo on invitations.

My dad was the first one to speak. "Well, I'll be in the basement. Don't call me if you need me." He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a six pack, then proceeded through the basement door. He abandoned me.

I avoided making any eye contact with the four people still left in the room. Well, three technically. I counted the kids each as half.  
Whilst avoiding my moms stare I gave the room itself my attention. It was exactly the same, give or take a stain on the carpet. The walls were lined with school pictures of me and Shelley that documented our growth from chubby five year olds to awkward and zitty teenagers. My prom picture was the one closest to the door. I restrained myself from actually looking at it.

"Oh, _Stan._" My mom watched me nervously. I figured she didn't know what to say, or was wondering if I wanted her to say anything. She wiped her hands on her greasy apron, looking as if she needed to catch her breath. That made two of us.

"Hi mom." I smiled rather awkwardly. My hands were still hidden in my pockets. Should I be attempting to hug her or something? Would that be weird? Well, she was my mom after all.  
I pulled my hands from my pocket and began to take a step toward her, but was beat to the punch as she attacked me. Yes. _Attacked_ me. I was cornered against the door, as she began to maker her analysis of my appearance. A hello? A hug? A "how's your head?"? Nope. She was much more concerned with my arms being too thin and my hair too long. I called it though. I'm good.

She grabbed my face with her cold hands and turned my head from side to side. I got a chance to analyze her now. She looked the same really, I mean, her hair was a little longer and she looked tired, but other then that she was still Sharon. She scowled. "Do people not sleep in California? Honestly Stan your eyes are bloodshot."

I exhaled, refraining myself. I hadn't even been home for two minutes. "I was in the emergency room for six hours mom. Could you hold off on the critiquing of my daily routine until I've at least sat down. Oh, and nice to see you too."

She gave a pleased laugh. "Oh honey, I'm happy you're here. I just...it's been so long. I began to lose hope you would ever come back. You've changed so much...were your pants always that tight?" My mother never was one to beat around the bush.

"Okay, uh, thanks mom." A vague response. It works for Sharon.

"I know! Come to the kitchen and tell me about your trip! Do you want something to eat? Do you need to sit down?" She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the kitchen. I followed willingly. I was tired. Delirious even. If she wanted me to go to the kitchen, then fine. It smelled good anyway. That was a plus.

My sister continued to ignore my presence even as we walked by her. I almost made eye contact but I feared for my health.

We entered the dim litted kitchen and my mom ushered me to a new looking dining table, where I gladly sat down. She rushed to the cabinets, shoving things aside to find something she felt I was worthy enough to eat. She found some tuna and old salt crackers. Yum.

"So," she began, "I can't believe your actually here. Oh, I wished I could have been there to pick you up at the airport. I tried calling you, but I could only get a hold of that Jamie girl."

"Jenny."

"Yeah, okay. Well anyway, I told your sister you were coming down after all, and she was so excited!" I leaned back in the chair to get a glance at Shelley, still on the couch, still on the phone.

This called for a laugh. "Yeah, she seems it."

"Oh and the kids were so happy! Evans been using your room since Shelley came to stay with us last month, but as soon as we told him you were coming he cleaned everything up for you. He said he'll just share with Cameron." My mom yammered on as she prepared the tuna that I knew I wasn't going to eat.

"Cameron?"

"Your niece. Didn't you see her, she was in the living room? She was probably under the couch. She likes to hide under things. It's odd, but she's such a real sweetie."

I turned to take another glance back toward the living room but instead came to face to face with a male version of what my sister looked like back in grade five. I hadn't seen Evan since his diaper days, but I admit he looked...taller. He had my mother and his mothers sandy brown hair, along with Shelley's messed up teeth. A huge piece of wire protruded from his mouth. He also had his fathers frigid blue eyes. He stared up at me for several seconds, had enough of that, and walked away. Did I look that bad? Well I hadn't exactly had a chance to use a mirror, but I figured the fringy bloody bandage around my forehead was enough to creep out a ten year old. That's kinda neat actually.

Mom had noticed this and smiled. "He likes you!"

"Whatever you say mom." I rolled my eyes back. This small talk was excruciating torment. I should have just come out and told her at the door. As if she was reading my mind, she brought up the topic of the week.

"So, what do you think about being the best man?"

UUUGGGHHHH. "Actually I mean to talk to you about that."

My mom looked up from her Martha Stewart-esque tuna cracker thing. "Mhm?"

"I'm in Colorado for an Ad project. I'm a rep for my company and I'm overseeing a transition process between a company we just bought out. Obviously this will take up all my time, so I might not make it to the wedding...maybe." I thought I should add that last hopeful word so she might actually let me out the door.

She turned to the tuna and began to arrange them on a faux-fancy saucer. "Fine, if you're just here to play Mr. Business Man then that's fine. You can stay here for as long as you need, no pressure to actually GO to the weeding."She didn't sound the least bit surprised. I was surprised though.

"I actually have a hotel up in Denver."

That did it. She took the saucer from the counter, and poured all the mutant tuna crackers down the garbage disposal. "I knew it was too good to be true. God forbid my son actually wants to spend time with his family. Sorry I made you come out of your way to tell me we're just a big inconvenience." She said this rather calmly, quietly, politely even. Yet it still made me shiver. Six years and she still does that to me. "I'll tell your dad to drive you back to your hotel. You'll have to get your luggage from upstairs though. It's in your room. Kenny gave it to us when he took your car to the impound lot. Oh yes, and you'll have to go to the lot too, to sign some papers about that car you messed up. Now if you excuse me, I have to tell Shelley to stop wasting up my damn phone bill."

She left the kitchen, with me, there. Alone. I liked it that way, right? Right. I got up from my chair, nervous to enter the living room the way I use to be after coming home at five in the morning from a friends house. I did though. I walked slowly toward the stair, noticing that my mom wasn't in the living room. No one was in there anymore besides what looked like a three year old who fell asleep under the rocking chair. Cameron.

I made my way up the stairs, but halted once I reached the top. There was a door that was covered in tethered CAUTION tape, and some other crap any egotistical jackass teenager would tape to his door. I hesitated to actually go and open the door, but it was inevitable at this point. I walked over and twisted the knob, gently pushing the door open with my foot. The room was dark, with a red orange beam from the setting sun through some crappy blinds as the only source of light. I refused to actually look around and went straight for the suitcase on the bed. I was about to grab it and be that much closer at escaping, but something finally got the best of me. Without turning the light on, I looked around the room. The same. It was like going back in time. And I could swear that if I stood quiet enough then I could hear a fatass running by outside my window, eager to tell me about a new scheme to make a Christian rock band, or send a whale to the moon. Wait, the last one was my idea. I smirked at myself and looked around. There were the outlines of old band posters on the wall, and I could see a broken guitar in the corner. The pillow had a Terrance & Phillip pillowcase on it. Funny that I would still have that, even though I had been nineteen when I finally moved out. There were photos on the desk. Plenty of pictures, frames. All that stuff. I shouldn't have looked at them, but I wanted too. I almost felt I needed to, which, was, ridiculous. Stupid even. I walked over to the desk zombie-like, and picked up the first frame I saw.

It wasn't of me. The picture was taken at a park. I knew which one. I had spent a thousand summers in that park, with her. In the picture a girl was on a swing, she looked about sixteen. She was beautiful. A thousand times more beautiful then ex Playboy Bunny Sophie. Her black hair was windswept in her face and her smile was devastatingly heartbreaking. Her happy hazel eyes were looking beyond the camera lenses. She was looking at me, or through me. Whichever. What was that called, when someone looked at you like that? She just looked so damn happy. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, not ready to admit I had been crying. Which I hadn't been. The air in here was so stale it had made my eyes water. Seriously.

I set the photo face down on the desk and picked up another. It was of three guys. Friends, I guess. It was at the ninth grade homecoming dance, the dance where one of them had promised his friends that it would be _fun_ to all go stag, because he couldn't get the girl he was pathetically pining for to go with him. I squinted my eyes to make out the details of the picture, to recollect. The blonde was obviously drunk, and had a stupidly hilarious grin on his face while making hand motions as if he was feeling up some girl. The one with the black hair looked depressed out of his mind for whatever reason. Like always. Then there was the red-head. This one was the most confusing. He was surrounded by some pretty horrible friends, and yet he just stood there, smiling. Not like Kenny's absurd grin, but a genuine smile. He was happy. Why? Why were these people so happy? It pisses me off.

I set that picture face down too and walked over to my bed, where I buried my face in my hands. Okay. I did it. I was here. I had been running away all this time, and this what I wanted when I came down here in the first place, right? I wanted everyone to see how I had moved on. I somehow also wanted to hurt them. I had already hurt my mother, possibly my father...and it hadn't made me feel as free as I thought it would. Maybe Randy had been right, and I shouldn't be so assuming.

I mulled this over, while sitting on the bed, beside my luggage. Then I heard a light tap on the barely open door. I looked up to see my sister, leaning in the doorway with a perceptive smile plastered on her face. Even after all these years, I still felt she looked weird without her headgear. "Well, well. The prodigal sun has returned. Tell me, did you really come all the way down here just to hurt mom again? Or was there someone else you wanted to selfishly torment. I have a few guesses as to who."

I shook my head. "Mom shouldn't be so sensitive, I mean, it's not even her wedding. And no, I'm not a mercenary here to seek revenge on anyone. Could you close the door?"

Shelley snickered. Yeah, she actually snickered. "Actually no, dumbass. Mom wants me to drive you back to your hotel. It's a twenty minute drive, so if we leave now I can make it back for American Idol."

"So you _weren't_ really turning cartwheels when you found out I was coming to your wedding?"

She glared at me now. "First off, I knew straight off the bat you wouldn't come down here for a wedding. I figured you had some revenge scheme going on, but silly me, you're just here to sulk and fire a bunch of hardworking people from their source of income."

"I'm just overseeing transition-"

"Which also means letting people go. I would know this stuff, Chris's brother works for a shampoo company." Chris's brother, the one who bailed out of Best Man? It's his fault I'm _here_ right now.

"I don't sell shampoo Shelly, well technically I could if a shampoo company needed some publicity but..."

"Yeah, yeah. Are you ready or what?"

I looked at my suitcase and then to the floor. I was tired. I needed to talk to Jenny. "No I'm not. I need coffee."

She rolled her eyes. "We'll stop at the coffee shop real quick if that will get you out of here any faster. C'mon." She turned to leave, her hair smacking the door on the way. I grabbed my suitcase and rose. I took one more look at the darkened room, which seemed to be mocking me. My eyes shut tight and I slammed the door behind me.

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I was in the car. Again.

I recollected everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. Honestly, I could barely believe it myself.

I was slumped in the back seat of the car, because I wasn't allowed to drive a car for at least a week due to a minor concussion. How was I suppose to explain that to my boss? My sister blasted this poppy crap that called itself music obviously trying to forget that I was in the car with her. She sang along to it even though she obviously had no idea what the words were. "This is my favorite song!" I heard her yell to Evan more then once, who was, oh yes, in the passenger seat. He smiled at her like a good little boy but continued to stare at me through the rear view mirror. That kid had some issues.

Shelley came to an abrupt stop. She turned the key, folded her hands on her lap and turned her head to look at me, who was lying down on the seats in the back so no one could see me. "Five minutes. Go get your coffee."

I turned and sat up, warily. "Can't you just get it for me?"

She smiled at me. "No way. You get it."

I was about to tell her she could go screw herself, but I didn't get the chance. Partly because Evan was there, staring at me. And partly because Kenny McCormick had just tapped on my window.

I had to to admit I felt a rush of uneasiness. I had been so close. I had been horribly close to escaping again, without running into anyone. Kenny was the last person I needed right now. He had been one of my best friends. We use to throw ground up beef at all the vegetarians coming out of the Organic Market together. He was like a brother. He probably hated me. Maybe not. Did I want to know? I didn't.

Evan finally took his eyes off me so he could unbuckle his seat belt and jump out of the car, thrusting himself into Kenny's side. "Uncle Kenny! I thought you said you were going to come visit today, I was so bored! Mom just did wedding stuff and Cameron ate lint." I was surprised when Evan looked up at Kenny with such honest admiration. I shouldn't have been so shocked though. Kenny was just as much his uncle as I was, maybe more. He had Kenny's insightful blue eyes.

Shelley rolled her window down and smiled up at her Ex brother-in-law. "Hey Ken, I thought I would find you here."

Kenny didn't say anything but he shrugged and then smiled. Evan was still attached to his hip.

Shelley continued. "Well I was just taking my retard brother to get some coffee, but I remembered I had to go sample some cake for this weekend. If I bail then I'm screwed."

Kenny was silent for a few seconds then realized what my sister was saying. Sadly I did too. I wanted to disappear and be in LA again. The discerning blonde grinned at her. "I can drive him back home." He didn't bother looking at me. Not once. I was somewhat grateful. He was the only one.

Shelley sighed convincingly. "Actually Stan's staying in Denver, at a hotel. I was suppose to drive him back."

Kenny frowned. "A hotel? _Denve_r? I don't think I can help you there." He subtly unlatched himself from Evan, who looked like he couldn't bare to let go. Who would guess Kenny would ever become a parental figure. It was a scary thought.

Relief swept over me.

Shelley didn't quit though. She didn't know how. "Well, I understand. Red would have done it though. Her shifts over, maybe I should just go ask her?" She looked up at him from beneath her fringe bangs. I caught a glimpse of him too. He didn't look like he was breathing. What was Shelley playing at? Did she hate me that much? I guess she did if she was going through so much trouble to harass one of her ex-husbands brothers.

This was hell to watch. I took a chance. I spoke. The Invisible Man spoke. "Shelley, shut the fuck up and just drive me. We both know you don't need any more cake as it is. It's so damn obvious! Evan, get in the car. We're leaving."

Shelley was shocked and obviously offended. She stared into the coffee house, frowning. Evan let go of Kenny and glared at me. Even as he walked to and opened the car door he glared at me. I guess I had offended him too.

Though my back was to Kenny, I could feel his eyes on me. Then, he burst out laughing. I turned my neck to look at him. He didn't bother to recompose himself or look back at Shelley sympathetically. He just laughed. No one in this town _ever_ changed. That I now knew. When he was finally done, Shelley had already blasted her music up again.

Without really having time to realize it, Kenny had opened my door and was motioning for me to get out. I could have said no. I should have said no. I didn't say no. I was having a strange out of body experience actually. Kenny pulled my suitcase from the backseat and tossed it into the bed of a rusty pick-up that made my parent's car look like a Porsche. A Mercedes at least. I cautiously opened the door and slipped out. I had the impulse to apologize to Shelley, but I didn't. Kenny slammed the car door shut and walked over to Evan's window, motioning for him to role it down.

"Alright, tell you what kid," he looked at Evan, "I'm taking your Uncle Stanny off your hands for now. Next week I'll take you to see an R rated movie or something though."

Shelley scoffed and reached over to roll the window up. "By Kenny._ Stan_," she spat. Kenny looked over at her. "I'll tell Kevin hi for you too. Would you like that?"

"Don't bother." With that, and a few other loving finger gestures, she sped off. I focused on her car as long as I could before it completely faded into the darkness. What was I doing here? Why was I here? I stuck my hands in my pocket, not willing to face the Coffee House. Or Kenny for that matter. I could hear him take out a cigarette and light it from behind me.

"So, are we staying in the parking lot all night? Go get your coffee and let's get the hell out of here. Denver right?"

I shook my head, still refusing to turn around. "Listen, don't do me any favors. Shelley was just being a bitch. That's who she is. I'll get a taxi...or something."

"I'm not doing anyone favors. You're going to pay me for this actually," he paused to inhale his cigarette, "And let's be honest, where the hell are you going to find a taxi in South Park? Good luck with that."

I turned around. He was staring at me, not with resentment or sympathy either, but with pure indifference. Despite that, he was still Kenny. He hadn't changed really, though something was off. He was wearing clothes that didn't have holes or blood stains. I decided to put it aside. "Okay. Fine. I'll get some coffee and you're driving me to Denver. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Would you mind if I go dancing in the street right now?"

I ignored this and instead headed toward the coffee shop, and he turned to follow. I had almost made it to the doors, but stopped. He caught up to me and zipped up his jacket. "Gonna go in?"

I stared at the door handles. "I thought about it."

"And?"

"Well, obviously they'll stare. I'll be their source of entertainment for the night. I wouldn't be surprised if they make a whole article in the paper about my just being here."

Kenny dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, twisting his foot until it was nothing but black powder on the sidewalk. He turned to look at me and put a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shake it off.

"Stop being a pussy. Go get your fucking coffee. If they stare at you? Smile and wave."

I nodded, hardly listening. "Hey I've been meaning to tell you thanks."

"Thanks?"

"For getting me out of that ditch."

He looked at me and grinned. "What ditch?"

He took the hand that was on my shoulder and used it to jam me through the door.


	5. Personal Meteorologist

**Authors Note:** New chapter! This one took awhile to come up with actually. I had to see where I wanted it to go, but I'm happy now with where it's heading (and no, it's not going to be Stan/Kenny). Anyway, don't want to bore you too much with this authors note, but seriously, thank you for the reviews and favs!  
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, and the song that is older then me, "Forever Young", is by Rod Stewart.

**Chapter Four: Personal Meteorologist **

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The first thing that I noticed when I was shoved through the Coffee Shop's door was the sleepy 80's tune that poured from overhead speakers.

"Forever _Young_?" I mumbled. Interesting choice; that song was probably older than me.

The second thing that hit me was that I could barely see my feet as I took a step forward. I had a vague feeling that if I made another step I would run into a table. Only a few dimmed lights hung from various spots of the room. Was not being able to see what you're drinking chic here or something? Did South Park know what chic even meant? Probably not, but then again neither did I really.

As if Kenny could see that I was struggling to locate where I was headed, he grabbed my wrist and led me to the counter, where he placed me firmly.

"Go ahead. I'll just be…" he trailed off as he turned and walked to a booth in the far corner. I squinted, trying to make out if the booth was empty or not. I watched as he stood by the table and began to talk to someone who I couldn't see.

"Sir?"

I turned back to a woman who looked at me with patience. She had thick coke-bottle glasses and frizzy brown hair. She kept on smiling.

"Oh, um…" I looked up at the menu. All the drinks on the chalkboard weren't even legible. They looked like they were written by some spazz who couldn't even hold a piece of chalk. "Y'know what, can I just have a black coffee?"

She looked at me strangely and then crouched down behind the counter to pull out a cup. She filled it and then handed it to me. "Careful. It's hot. You want sugar or…anything?" I shook my head. The way she was looking at me, if I stood there for a couple more seconds she would probably bash me in the head and throw me in a trunk. She looked like that type.

"No thanks," my eyes darted to her name tag, "Rebbecca." She gave me a wide smile. I smiled back and then turned around. I tried not to cry out in pain as the cup was slowly burning my hand. I probably could have asked the Rebbecca girl for a napkin or something but she creeped me out. So I figured I'd take my chances with a blistered hand.

I looked to the corner where I could see Kenny, who was now sitting, talking to shadows. He was laughing at some joke I couldn't hear. He had an obnoxious loud laugh, but there wasn't anyone else in the shop, so neither he nor I could attract any real attention.

I almost turned to go wait outside for him, but he must have seen me standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor and called over. "Stan c'mon, a couple minutes won't kill you."

I laughed nervously, eying the door, but my feet took me to the table anyhow. Kenny didn't look up at me as I approached, but still scooted over so I could sit. I didn't look at who was sitting across from him for a few seconds even after I had sat down. I knew they were guys, I didn't have to look up to see that. The one I was sitting across from kept shaking his foot and I wondered if eventually it would just fall off. The other one barely moved at all, but he made polite conversation with Kenny. I kept my head lowered and continued to sip my bitter coffee, and I wondered why I had wanted coffee so much to begin with.

My eyes eventually made their way up to our company. The one I was sitting across from wasn't just shaking his foot anymore, but kept turning his head and shrugging his shoulders, glancing around with obvious paranoia. His hair matched the color of Kenny's but it shot out in every witch direction, as if he'd never combed it in his life. He didn't look at anyone; he was too busy staring at chairs and plastic plants. The one who was talking to Kenny didn't pay much attention to his friend next to him who was having a panic attack. Well, that's the way it seemed, but if you paid closer attention you'd see that he would touch the blonde's arm comfortingly every once in awhile. He nodded his head absentmindedly as Kenny rambled on about mud wrestling. His black hair was just barely longer than mine, and his eyes were either brown or dark gray, whichever. I only realized this because as he comforted his friend with one hand and stirred his drink with the other, he stared at me.

I lowered my eyes again. Kenny was now making a crack about some high school girl who flirts with him every time he stops by the pharmacy.

"Yeah, she wants me," he smirked, "She's not too bad herself though. I'd totally-"

"If you totally did anything with her you'd be looking at three to five years Ken. Plus, she flirts with everyone. She was implying some nasty stuff to Butters a couple days ago, but it went right over his head," the dark haired one exhaled. His voice was nasally, like he purposely held his breath when he talked. He had taken his eyes away from me briefly but there he was, staring at me again. Kenny was oblivious, and slumped in his chair, obviously offended. The dark-hair one looked away finally.

"So how long were you planning on just sitting there and not even bother to say anything Stan?"

I flinched at his voice. "Hi Craig."

He didn't respond.

Kenny sat back up and smirked. "Yeah I'm giving Marsh here a ride back to his hotel. He's banned from driving. Doctors orders apparently."

Craig took a sip from his cup and glanced at Kenny. "I heard about that, didn't you find him passed out on the side of the mountain? What a retard."

The neurotic blonde looked over at me with wide eyes. "You drove on the mountain passing?! OH MY GOD, DUDE! What if you hurled off the cliff?! Jesus Christ! Out-of-staters shouldn't drive up there!"

"I don't see the big deal," I sighed.

"Calm down Tweeker, see _that_?" Craig pointed at me. "No one died. Everything's good. Remember your breathing." He put a hand on Tweek's knee. The blonde took deep breaths and managed to calm down, well, as much as possible. The whole time he clutched Craig's arm, and Craig didn't seem to care. He smiled even.

Kenny ignoring us, grabbed my coffee and took a huge gulp of it, then set it back down in front of me. "Okay, well we better get going. Say bye to Stan," he yawned.

Craig looked like he was holding back from flipping me off. Of course. _Once an asshole always and asshole._ His eyes darted to me as if he had heard what I thought.

Tweak looked up at me at me and his mouth twitched. I suppose it meant goodbye.

"Bye guys, it was nice-" I began.

"Whatever. Just leave a tip on your way out," Craig murmured.

Kenny pushed me forward and on our way past the counter I dropped a dollar into a jar. Rebbecca smiled. I grimaced. As we were on our way out the door, I heard Craig call out "Welcome home". It was either that, or "Go to hell". Whatever it was he did say, Kenny found it hilarious.

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"Shit Kenny! Do you want me back in the hospital?"

"Calm down _Stanley_, you're still such a pussy. Unlike you, I drive on this road all the time. We're fine. No one's dying tonight unless I say so." Kenny exhaled from his cigarette and made a yum sound. He pulled a box from his pocket. "Want one? It'll distress you. I swear you look like you'll pass out any minute."

"I'm trying to quit," I lied. I didn't need to calm down.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

Snow lightly hit the windshield, and I shivered. "Does Colorado not realize that it's August?" I muttered.

Kenny scoffed. "Dude. We have two seasons here. Winter and July. I hear next week we're getting another four feet of snow."

"Since when do you watch the weather channel? You use to wear a parka when it was 110 degrees outside."

"I don't. I have my own private meteorologist." He looked over and grinned.

I couldn't help being confused. Since when did Kenny McCormick even know what a meteorologist was? "Wait, what do you mean?"

He sighed, making it apparent that I had just discovered a topic he wanted to avoid. Well, he brought it up. "Never mind. Forget it."

"What happened to Mr. 'Let it all out to hang in the open for everyone to know' McCormick?" That was a mouth full.

"Dude, you never did know what it meant to shut _up_, did you?"

"Fine, I was just asking....you make a right here." I pointed to a diverge in the road.

"I know how to get to Denver."

I didn't argue. There was no point. We went on for a mile or two in utter silence. It wasn't awkward, just tense. I looked out into the darkness and wondered about what I would say to Mr. McLeod about this ordeal. It was only Saturday, and I wasn't actually expected until Monday when the manager would be at the office, but Ronald had wanted me to make a surprise visit on those poor unsuspecting people. He was probably more pissed then worried. Maybe Jenny had told him about my family and he thought I was ditching...

"Would you shut up? I will drive us off a cliff if you keep muttering to yourself like that," Kenny snapped. I lost focus on my thoughts.

"I wasn't muttering."

"You were."

"Whatever. Be an asshole. I didn't do anything Ken, I don't know why your being such a prick."

Kenny made a face that I could only decipher as annoyance.

He tried to keep quiet now, but that wasn't good enough for me. He got me wound up, now just watch me go. "So what _did_ happen between you and Red?" I watched as his fists tightened on the wheel. "Oh c'mon," I grinned ,"You didn't think I would just sit back and not ask... did you?"

Kenny began to slow down the truck and he made a sudden turn onto the side of the highway, where he cut the engine. He leaned across me and opened my door. "Get out."

"Kenny, what are you doing? I can't walk! This road goes for another three miles!" Was he crazy?

"That's your problem."

"Why did you bother giving me a ride Kenny? You obviously still hate me for leaving you behind. Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were dumped by Red! I'm sorry! What else do you want me to say?"

"Of course that's what this is about isn't it? Guess what, it's not always about you Stan! When you left, this town didn't freeze in place until you came back. Everyone has lives now that don't include you. And now here you are bitching about how everyone's staring at you and everyone hates you! We don't sit around and talk about you all day, don't you understand that?! I volunteered to drive you back so you can get the hell out of town and no one has to see you again."

I didn't know what to say. Maybe there was nothing to say. I knew people never thought of me, I mean, I didn't think of them either. I unhooked my seat belt and pushed open the door. "I shouldn't of come back. I know that, alright?"

Kenny sighed. "Don't do that. Don't feel sorry for yourself. Close the door. Listen, I'm ...sorry. But close the door before we fucking freeze to death."

"Kenny, I can get a ride. I'm sure plenty of cars come down this way..."

He just glared at me until I closed the door and re-attached my seat belt. But he didn't start the car. Now I know where Evan get's it from.

"Red didn't dump me Stan."

I stayed silent.

He continued. "After you left," he studied me before going on, "And after Kyle left, I got back into drinking and all that other shit. Red didn't know, she was too busy planning the wedding that never happened to realize. Anyway, I was really fucked up then and I started seeing other women. When I say other women I do mean hookers, but I also mean Bebe Stevens."

My eyes widened."Kenny-"

"Shit Stan, let me finish!"

I stared at him. He looked as if he was going to break down, but I knew he wouldn't let himself. Maybe that's the way it seemed to me though, because I felt like I was going to break down.

"I dunno, at first I 'hung out' with Bebe because she was just so familiar y'know? But then as I started spending more time with her, I knew that I couldn't marry Red. I told her this actually, I was really drunk and just went home and told her everything. She kicked me out without even stopping to think. The fact that it was really over didn't even hit me until after I got myself sober. By then Red had enrolled herself in a nursing school. That's about when she met up with Token. They're engaged now, I think." He sat there and stared at the steering wheel. He had said everything so matter of factly, as if he had rehearsed the story over and over. He didn't seem the least bit affected, just quiet.

I cleared my throat. "What happened to Bebe?"

He smiled. "She became a meteorologist."

"Oh," I mumbled.

Kenny turned the key in the ignition and started the truck up again. "I didn't want to hurt her Stan, Red I mean, and I did. I pulled a fucking Wendy."

I winced.

"I saw that," Kenny muttered, "You twitched. You're not still hung up on her are you? Would you rather I said Kyle?"

"No, and I'm not. I just...never mind. Just go."

He was about to pull out, but stopped and looked at me. "Listen, Bebe and I are having a party tomorrow and if you're not doing anything you should come dude."

I scratched the back of my neck. "What are you and_ Bebe_ playing house now or something?"

Kenny shrugged. "Something like that. If you're going to be a dick though then don't come. I know you and Red were tight and everything, but this all happened a long time ago. You don't have to hate Bebe for Red's honor. She'd probably agree. So, you gonna come?"

"Sure, whatever dude," I replied absentmindedly. I was tired, delirious actually. I would have said pretty much anything to just make him get me back to the hotel. "You always manage to screw stuff up Kenny, no matter how good you have it you always screw yourself and everyone over."

Kenny started the car and turned around to make sure everything was clear enough for him to back up. "I learned it from you," he replied, casually. I wouldn't say I agreed with him.

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Eventually the trees faded away and we were engulfed by the blinding lights of Denver.

Kenny and I made small talk for the rest of the way, neither of us wanting to go deep. I learned that his only friends these days were Craig, Tweek and Butters, and that the coffee shop had become a second home because Craig and Tweak owned it. I told him about my cat, who was pretty much my only friend. He thought I was joking and laughed. I kept quiet after that, looking away as Kenny turned up the stereo; we were suddenly drowning in the angst-filled lyrics of Kurt Cobain.

I drummed my fingers to the beat while peering out into the avenues around us. I knew where we were. In fact if I did my research right Callahan Advertising was around here. I looked harder while we continued down the road, until I finally saw it as we passed. It was on a corner, and was smaller then I had even expected.

"Is that your where you're working or something?"

I turned to look at Kenny. "How'd you know?"

"You were muttering again. Don't you realize you do that? You're awake too dude."

"Oh...no I guess I never realized that. I think I do it in my sleep too."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know if you do. Anyway, that's your hotel over there right?" He pointed ahead of us, to a tall glass building.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

He pulled up to the entrance, where a man in red coat and hat stood solemnly. Kenny pointed to the bed of the truck, and the man walked over, pulling out my suitcase.

"Well you're all set," Kenny muttered, his voice muffled because of the cigarette wedged in his mouth. I got out of the truck and got a good look at it again. It was pretty ancient. I ducked and looked into Kenny's rolled down window.

"Hey thanks, really Kenny. You didn't have to."

"Yeah whatever. It's not a big deal. Saturday's I can stay out as long as I want. In fact I'll probably just head back to Tweeks place." I figured Bebe gave him a curfew.

"Oh yeah, I was wondering about that.."

"About what?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Are Craig and Tweek just business partners, or are they _partners_?"

He laughed so hard that the cigarette fell out of his mouth. I didn't think it was that funny, but this only made more confused.

He stopped laughing and began to roll up his window. "Go to bed, you look like shit."

"Thanks."

"See you tomorrow then," he called back as he revved out from the hotel's entrance.

"Wait! What do you mean..." I called out but my voice faded beneath his trucks clunky engine. I couldn't remember if I said I'd go to that party or not. I hoped it was the second one.

I watched silently as Kenny's truck raced down the street, until it disappeared completely.

It was a long day; I needed sleep.

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**Author's Note:** Hope this chapter wasn't too slow or anything. I enjoyed writing it either way. All I can say about next chapter is that it's the one I've been waiting for, and patiently have been trying to get to! Oh, and Kurt Cobain is from the classic grunge band, Nirvana. In case there was anyone who hadn't known that.


	6. Home Movie

Disclaimer: Psh, I don't own South Park.

**Chapter Five: Home Movie**

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August 21. /11:30 a.m./ Sunday./

_Everyone is staring at me. I hear them murmuring amongst each other, laughing, grinning and fanning themselves. They're anxious, but not quiet as much as I.  
_

_I don't look at them. No. I keep my gaze steadily on the center aisle, with a big stupid grin of my own. I watch it carefully, knowing that at any moment she'll appear. My heart races and I wonder for a moment if this could all be real. Could this really be for me, do I deserve it? Probably not, but it makes me even more excited knowing how undeserving I am, because this really was happening._

_The band's background melody slowly evolves into the familiar march, and I expect to feel nervous, for my knees to shake, something. But nothing. I feel as if I was more than human. I didn't even forget to breathe like I thought I would. Well, maybe a little.  
_

_The band continues to play. Next to me, Kenny makes a remark about how I should try and keep everything down when she appears; stomach and other things. I ignore him for once. The band stills plays... and plays and plays. I realize that now they are playing the song over again. The aisle remains empty. The silence of the crowd is broken by various whispers and shushes. A sinking feeling begins to creep up on me, but I push it away desperately.  
_

_I and everyone else stare nervously, hopefully, at the center aisle. Then, someone appears. I hear Kyle gasp and Kenny curse under his breath. Red makes her way to me, her soft purple dress flapping in the wind. She doesn't look at me, only at a crumpled piece of paper she's clutching at her side. She reaches me, looks up at me with unmistakable pity in her eyes, and places the letter in my hand.  
_

_My breath becomes erratic, and Kyle grabs my shoulder, squeezing it and extending his other hand to support my now crumbling body. _

_She wasn't coming._

My eyes fluttered open, frantically taking in the room around me. A wall-size window allowed bright sunlight into my "modern" or rather plain hotel room. I shut my eyes and pulled the blankets over my head, staying silent to listen to my deep, tired breathes. It was just a dream, this time at least.

I sluggishly pulled a hand up to my face, running my fingers over my damp eyes. I begin to shake with realization that I had been crying before I even woke up. "Pull yourself together Marsh, you jerk," I murmured to myself. Whiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I tossed the covers off of me and made my way to the bathroom. I flicked on the lights and a sudden chorus of buzzing erupted from the vent above me. The sound was enough to give anyone a headache, but to me it was welcomed distraction from the images of that aisle, that band...those people.  
I peered into the small oval mirror that reminded me that I looked just as awful as I felt. The blue-black skin around my left eye I got from hitting my face against a steering wheel matched the shirt I was wearing. I began to unwrap the bloody bandage from my forehead, and I cringed as I removed each layer one by one, until all that was left was the gash above my eyebrow. I sheepishly ran my index and middle finger over it, but drew back at the burning sting it precipitated. "Ow! Oh shit. Shit shit SHIT!"

Suddenly the barely furnished room was filled in an echoing ring, and I dashed for my cell phone. I unplugged it from the electrical outlet and brought it to my ear, pressing talk. "Jenny?"

"Oh good. You're up." Her voice was short, curt. I could practically hear the hiss.

"I already told you I'm sorry," I replied apprehensively. She snorted and I heard the rapid clicking of a computer keys. Jenny was a such a workaholic. Like me.

"Well what do you expect Stan? Your flight gets in to Denver at five or six in the morning and you don't call me back until after _midnight_, claiming that you got into a car accident. You could have at least come up with a more creative excuse. I mean, you in advertisement. You're paid to come up with believable lies."

"I went to South Park, Jen."

"You what? Oh Stan...not even you could make something like that up."

"I know."

"Oh! That's so great. Really it is." Her voice was sweet and encouraging, but not enough.

I groaned. "Hardly, I spent most of yesterday in the hospital. I look like Frankenstein. I hate to say it, but I don't know if I can go to work looking like this. I may just 'ave to go tomorrow."

"They're not expecting you till then anyway, so I would think it's fine. McLeod is preoccupied with his divorce right now anyway, so I say you're clear. Just rest, please."

Divorce? Again, I called it. "Thanks Jen. Before I go, how's Charlie?"

She laughed. "He loves me."

We exchanged goodbyes and I hung up. Winding up my arm as if I was a pitcher, I tossed my cell underhand onto an armchair in the corner of the room. Not exactly liking the blinding sunlight, I walked over to the massive window, and without looking down at the city below, pulled the curtains shut. Flopping down beneath some satin covers for a few more hours of sleep seemed like a good enough plan to me.

-------------------------------------------------

_"Is she okay?"_

_"Yeah, she's fine." Red looks away from me and walks over to Kenny, where she leans her face into his chest, refusing to watch me. I wish I didn't have to watch either.  
_

_Kyle keeps his grip on my shoulder as I struggle to unfold the letter. With shaking hands I frantically read it, searching for the part where she says not worry, that she's just running a little late. I know my hopes are in vain._

**My Dear Stan,**

**I don't know what I should say here, just that I know I have to say something. For these past few weeks I've been looking for the words, to explain to you. I failed in that. I do however have these words to say to you: I love you. With all my heart, I do. I want you to be happy. I want me to be happy though too. Marrying you won't make either of us happy, and I doubt it will make all the underlying problems disappear. No matter what you believe. It will only make things worse. I know right now you may not understand what it is I'm telling you, but you will. You'll be okay. I know that. Remember that I love you. Kyle loves you too, he really does. One day I hope you can see that.**

**Goodbye, Wendy**

_She wouldn't be happy if she married me._**  
**

_Even after I finish reading the letter, I don't look up. I know what I'll see. I'll see the people I love looking at me with pity, knowing that the person I love most isn't making an appearance today. She had always been so punctual. Of all the days not to show up. Without lifting my head, I lift my eyes to the faces of the crowd. I see my mother sobbing, her whole body heaving as she covers her face in Randy's arm. Everyone is looking at everyone else but me. The words on their lips are obvious: "Oh, poor boy. Poor Stan. The Testaburger girl did it again." There are probably various versions. _

_I hear Kenny whispering harshly to Red, who remains silent. The person who I wanted to see or hear the least right now still has his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him with scorn. "What did you do to her?"  
He looks at me with confusion and shakes his head slowly. "What are you talking about? I didn't do anything, she just wasn't ready...I'm so sorry Stan," he whispers to me. I shove the note in his hands and watch as he reads it. He looks up at me with even more confusion. "I-I don't know what she's talking about," he answers in his hushed voice.  
"Are you serious? 'Kyle loves you too'. What the fuck is that?" I growl, my voice loud enough to be heard by those around us.  
He continues to shake his head, and his cloudy green eyes begin to water. "I don't know what she means."  
"Fuck you Kyle you liar!" I want to hit him, hurt him, kill him. I take a staggered step toward him, and he makes no attempt to step back. It's Kenny who comes between me and Kyle. He puts a hand on my shoulder and holds me back. I stop, refusing to break down in the front of everyone. If I stood there for another second I would kill Kyle. I shove Kenny's hand away from me and proceed down the alter, down the aisle...alone._

_I turn back and take one more look at the crowd. Everyone is turned in their seats to look at me now. I glance up at Kyle, who doesn't look away from me. He holds my gaze. I turn around and disappear behind a hedge. That's the last time I see my Super Best Friend._

"Hello?"

"Mr. Marsh, sorry to disturb you."

"Who is this?" I asked with a yawn. I was half asleep and engulfed by my beds sheets. I opened my eyes and looked around the dark room. Just a hotel room. No altar. No aisle.

"This is the receptionist, from the lobby. I have a, um, gentleman here who says you're expecting him?"

I shake my head and suddenly reality begins to take back over, but I couldn't say I wasn't glad for being woken up . "I'm not expecting anyone though, it's a mistake." There was no reply, but I could hear the woman arguing with someone. The mystery person was telling the receptionist to hand them the phone, and the receptionist was saying something about getting the security guard.

"Stan?" The familiar voice drifted into my ear.

I sighed and dropped my head back onto the pillow. "Hey Kenny, can I, um, ask why you're calling this early? Hell, why are you calling at all?"

He chuckled and breathed deeply into the phone. "I drive all the way out to Denver to pick you up and take you to have some fun, and I don't even get a 'Good evening'?"

"Evening?"

"Look out your window genius," he smirked.

I tossed off the blankets for the second time and hurried to the window, I opened the curtains. The city was covered in dark gray sky. Light from the streetlamps flooded the sidewalks below. I put the Hotel's phone back up to my ear. "What time is it exactly?" I stared down at the street in horror. I had slept away the _entire _afternoon.

"It's about five. Listen I can't stay down here much longer, Ms. Employee of the Month here is gonna have me arrested. So hurry up." I almost told him to just go home, but then my eardrums were stabbed with the dial tone. I dropped the phone on the floor and just sort of stood there for a moment. How could I go back with Kenny? It seemed like such a bad idea. But it a worse thought to sit there by myself in the hollow hotel room. I would only go for a little bit...get my car back at least from Kenny. "I'll be right down," I mumbled, convincingly to myself.

This had "Stupid Idea" written all over it, but I grabbed a coat and my shoes anyway.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Hope I didn't disturb you're beauty sleep Stanley," Kenny teased. He made a quick turn onto an empty street, lit only by a few street lamps here and there. Even if I didn't like to admit it, these streets were a part of me. I had them memorized. For instance, I knew that in a few minutes we would be passing the hidden road that only a few people knew led to Stark's Pond. When we went a little further, there would be yet another turn that led to a deserted Village Inn, where some Goth kids I knew would hang out.

"It's fine. I had a dream though," I responded absentmindedly.

"Really? Was it a good dream? And when I say good I mean did it have any girls?"

I thought about that for a moment. "No. She didn't show up."

Kenny didn't say anything. He knew too well what I was insinuating. I exhaled deeply, watching as my breath came out visible from the cold. "So are we going to that party or something?" I asked distractedly.

"Oh, uh, yes. We are."

Shivering, I rubbed my mouth with my hand. "Great. I look like shit."

Kenny took his eyes off the road momentarily to glance at my clothes. He looked away and laughed. "You don't look that bad. I mean you looked pretty fucked up last night, but Rebbecca from the coffee house wouldn't shut up afterward about you. Hell, you could have a second head and girls would still want you. It's the Marsh charm," he smirked.

I looked away. "You're so stupid."

He found this amusing."Serious! Why do you think I hardly hung out with you when I was with a chick? They'd choose Marsh over McCormick any day...I guess you wouldn't have noticed though. The only girl you ever looked at you already had."

Kenny knew just how to piss someone off, intentional or not. The sad part about it was when he did, you always ended up being angry at yourself and not at him. That was the_ McCormick_ charm.

"Here we are." Kenny cleared his throat as we turned into a brightly lit street lined with townhouses. Lights were on from inside most of them, and they looked so cozy. One looked particularly cozier then the rest, but this was because dozens of people were stuffed inside of it. Some were even lounging on the lawn. A bunch of small town twenty somethings partying on a Sunday night. Nice.  
A few unfamiliar part-goers waved when they saw Kenny, and he smiled back at them. We pulled into a driveway and I could feel my stomach churning. "I can't do this."

He looked over at me dumbfounded. "I just drove around for forty minutes. You're going to the party Stan. It's only six, lighten up." It wasn't the time that was bugging me, Kenny could be so dense.  
He got out of the truck and walked over to the other side, and opened my door up, pulling me out roughly. He pushed me on to the sidewalk and then walked off onto the lawn, expecting me to follow him. I had no choice really, so I followed, my head low and eyes on the ground as I walked. One step, two step. I could feel the space around me becoming more rigid as we went on, the crowd was becoming denser as we maneuvered through it. It was easy to tell when we had entered the house. I could hear people's voices dying down as we walked passed them, but the music still echoed in the background, it was some loud pop number. I continued to walk absorbed, until I ran right into Kenny's back. He swiveled around on the heels of his sneakers and I looked up (we were in a kitchen, I guess) He was smirking at the silent crowd.  
"Well? Get back to it people!" he shouted, shooting a hand into the air. On cue, everyone began to laugh and yell again, talking to each other and keeping their eyes off me. Kenny stood up on a chair and began looking around for someone, I can only imagine for who.  
"Hey man, I have to go find Bebe. Make yourself at home though. Drink up!" he picked up a beer can from the counter and tossed it to me. There was never a time I needed beer more. Before I even had a chance to open it, Kenny disappeared into the crowd, and suddenly it hit me. I was at a party, in South Park, surrounded by plenty of drunk people, some of which I probably went to school with...and Kenny left me here to drown. Shit.

I began to rock back and forth on my heels, taking sporadic sips of the warm beer in my hand, trying to pretend I was somewhere else. Anywhere else. "Stan? Oh gee wiz, is that really you? You look like a movie star with those fancy clothes!" I looked up from my drink to see a short, blonde guy wearing khaki pants that were too long for him and a pastel green polo shirt.  
"Butters?"

His face lit up. "Oh boy, I thought you'd forgotten about me! What with you being a big time business guy and all..." He went on for a few minutes about how the whole town knew about my visit yesterday, and how Kenny hadn't mentioned that I would be here. He talked about something else too, but I tuned him out after four minutes.

"What?" I looked back down at him.

"You didn't hear me? I was asking how you've been. You got a lot of rich friends down there in California?"

I nodded my head. "Oh not really, well, maybe...I guess." Did ex-girlfriends count?

He looked at me as if I was crazy. "Uh, okay. Well it was sure nice talking to you Stan. Bye bye."

I lifted a hand as he turned around and was swallowed by the massive crowd. I was grateful that only person to really acknowledge me was Butters.  
I sat there by the counter for what seemed to be hours, and pretended to read a calender on the fridge, but every once in awhile I would glance up at the people having fun around me. I could have sworn I saw Clyde from high school fall down the stairs claiming he could stick the landing. He never could hold his alcohol. That's how we got him to ride on the roof of a car while I sped down the side a mountain in senior year. He broke both his legs. Kenny's only regret was that we never got pictures.

It didn't take too long for me to realize Kenny wasn't coming back. I looked up at the clock above the cabinet: 6:40.  
I tossed the beer into the trash and began to consider just walking to a bus station. "I have to get out of here," I mumbled aloud, and I got a few weird looks from people around me. I knew I could never make it back to the front door without running into someone, so I turned around and budged open a sliding glass door, stepping into it as fast as I could..

As soon I shut the door from behind me, I was attacked with the piercing cold of the Colorado night. The wind hit my face, and it felt so good. A welcome relief from the stuffy, hot kitchen inside. I was amazed at how silent it was out there on the balcony. My teeth chattered noisily though, so I dug into my coat pockets and pulled out the box of cigarettes that I stole from Kenny's truck last night, and I had only just remembered doing so right then. I pulled my coat back and reached into my jeans pockets, clasping my fingers over a small piece of plastic. I put a single cigarette in my mouth and brought the lighter up to it with one of my frozen hands. I used the other to desperately protect the flame from the wind. Finally, the cigarette crackled, and I stuffed the lighter back into my pocket. I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling the warm smoke escape from my lips.

"That stuff will kill you y'know." The quiet voice spoke up from the corner of the balcony, from a small chair. I felt myself freeze, but it wasn't from the cold. My hands began to really shake as I tried my best to pretend I was somewhere else. Deep down, I knew who that voice belonged too. I knew who it was before the sentence had even been finished. He had been here the entire time, since I first slid open the door. I hadn't seen him.  
I kept my eyes trained on the full moon in front of me, calmly inhaling and exhaling the smoke. But sitting there, in the silence, was torture. I heaved my chest and wrapped one of my arms around my shoulder, trying not to reveal that I was shaking.

"I didn't think anyone was out here," I muttered half to myself, half to the shadow sitting behind me.

I could hear him as he shifted in his chair. He shivered. "I saw you when you came in. I came out here, I was trying to..."

"Avoid me?" I finished the shadows sentence.

"Well, yeah. You don't want to see me," he murmured.

"You're right." I tossed down the cigarette and smothered it to ashes with my shoe.

"Well, now you've seen me. What are you gonna do?"

I put my hands up against the rails of the balcony and contemplated jumping. It was only like, four feet to the ground. "Nothing. I'm not going to do anything. I'm not stupid. You could take me out within a minute."

"Stan, I wouldn't do that!" he stood up from his chair, alarmed. "I didn't mean fight me. I don't want to fight you I-"

I took a deep breath and turned my entire body to look at him. He seemed taller, if that was possible. He had on a sweater that I could barely make out the color of. He didn't take his eyes off me. I cleared my throat. "I, uh, I thought about this. What I would say when, if I ever saw you again. I had so many words picked out, and you know what? I can't remember a single one. Isn't that funny?" I smirked and lowered my eyes to the floor. So many memories flooded back to me, standing there. What pissed me off was that they were all good, great even.

Kyle held his stare. "How could you be angry at me? You think you've had things so hard? Try walking with your little brother into a grocery store, knowing that everyone's staring at you, whispering. I'm the guy that made South Park's Golden Child run away to California, leaving his family devastated. Your mom won't even look at me when I pass her in the street. She blames me. Th-they all do..." he stammered, his voice cracking and becoming thick. I bit my lip as he tried to hide his sobs.

"It's-It's not like you didn't give them reason," I whispered.

"Are you serious?" He looked up at me through wet, clouded eyes. I flinched as his tone so suddenly turned to anger. "I didn't give them any reason! I did nothing, _nothing _to deserve becoming the town pariah. If you wanted for everyone to hate me while you were safe and sound in your Hollywood condo then congratulations, you got it! If you expect me to feel sorry for you though then forget it. Go _away_." His teeth chattered as he turned to sit back down in the stool.

"You took her away from me Kyle."

He shook his head and covered his face with his hands. "Fuck you Stan, no one took her away from you. You're just so damn dense that you don't realize it was your fault. But you're not capable of doing wrong, right? You're perfect," he choked out. He brought his hands back down and crossed his arms. He stared right past me, out at the black sky.

I felt numb. No anger, or grief, just...nothing. I begin to head for the sliding door.I had spent six years trying to forget this town, Wendy, Kyle. A week ago, if they even crossed my mind I would have told myself none of it ever existed. I had promised myself that I wouldn't think of them again. But now, being here...everything was real again. It was if I was watching a home movie that I hadn't seen since I was a kid, everything coming back one at a time....

_The house is quiet, the kind of quiet where you can hear a ringing in your ears. I've been up nearly since dawn. As if I could actually sleep. I stare at the luggage on my bed._

_"Stan?" My dad appears in the doorway and I look up at him through wet, swollen eyes. "Don't do this. Why go to California? Why still go? That was your plan with her."_

_I shrug. "I see it as a new start. I have to get out of here dad. I can't be in this fucking town while she's here, while he's here."_

_"You're mom told me you told her that the Kyle and Wendy had an affair. I don't believe that, kid. How can you?"_

_I ignore him. "Besides, I accepted that internship at the advertising company I wanted, so I pretty much have to go either way."_

_He doesn't speak. The silence is suddenly disturbed by a shrill honking from the street below my window. _

_"My taxi's here," I mumble as I pick up my suitcases and head for the door. My dad steps aside. As I pass I can feel his eyes on me. "Say bye to mom for me," I call back without actually looking at him. I ignore the sobs coming from my mother in the bathroom._

Suddenly, I wasn't in that room anymore. I was on Kenny and Bebe's balcony. Reality.

I almost stepped into back into the hot, loud kitchen, but I felt a pull on my coat. I looked down and saw as Kyle grasped the hem of it, he still stared at the moon. "Wait. Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone here," he whispered. He looked up at me and the light from the kitchen allowed me to finally see his eyes. The green eyes that I had always been envious of. They looked so...desperate. "_Please._"

I nodded my head and closed the door again. The noise from within was once again silence by the thick door. I watched for a second as everyone inside continued to run around like kids.

"Okay," I sighed.

----------------------------------------------------

**Authors Note**: Oh wow, that chapter took forever. Anyway, this chapter is definitely not a filler. This is where the story truly begins, which is why I was excited to finally write it! Stan seems to be coming off as a real jerk, but let's face it, that's just Stan, for now anyhow. Oh, and yay for Kyle finally bothering to show up, right? Again, thank you to those who favorited and reviewed this story. You know who you are, and I hope you've been enjoying it. Okay, well I'm out now. Next update coming soon....hopefully.


	7. Mistakes become regrets

Authors Note: I cannot even begin to say how I even got this chapter done. I went through a few different re-writes, but none of them quite worked...at all. So, to help me get out of my funk I decided to do something a bit different, it may be a one time thing, but this chapter is in_ Kyle's pov_. Anyway, it did the trick and I actually finished. Better late then never I guess. I hope you guys enjoy.  
Disclaimer: South Park and it's lovely characters with in belong to Trey and Matt.

**Chapter Six: Mistakes Become Regrets  
**

---------------------------------------------------------

I tried not to stare. I tried not to breathe either, but that wasn't getting me anywhere. I watched him with an irrational interest, growing more worried with each passing second that he would step into the house and leave me alone to my thoughts. However that idea wasn't nearly as nerve-wrecking as the thought of him actually staying. I had had no idea what I was getting myself into.

"Okay," he said.

Okay. _Okay_? Had I heard him correct? "Okay," I repeated, quickly averting my eyes from his. I could feel him watching me now, and I began to wonder why I had asked him not to leave in the first place. This was the guy that had accused me of cheating with his fiancé in front of the whole town, and then attempting to strangle me in the process. I should have just told him to go jump off a cliff or take a walk in the middle on an intersection. But no, I asked him to not leave me alone. Why? Because despite the fact that I hated him for hating me all this time… I needed him. Admitting that to myself was the only thing I hated more than him.

As I redirected my eyes to the corner of the balcony where he stood, I could make out his shadowed figure shifting side to side with agitation. Inside, I could hear the screams and laughter of the people I use to go to school with, who were now just a bunch of drunks, especially Clyde….and Kenny.

"What?"

"What?" I snapped out from my foggy daze to see him staring down at me, the piercing blue eyes I had known so well were narrowed and tantalizing.

"You said something."

"I didn't."

"Really?"

"I promise Stan. You're hearing things."

He flinched as I whispered his name, and suddenly I felt an irrational shame rush over me. He hated me _that _much.

I ducked my head between my shoulders and tried to imagine how the hell I got here...

"_Oh c'mon, ever since you joined you're dad's firm it seems like you never have time for me anymore. I miss you!" Bebe's voice was a shrill whine, and people had begun to stare at us. The coffee shop was way too small._

"_I know. I miss you too, but I really don't think I'll be able to make it. We'll do lunch next week to make up for it. Sound good?"_

_Bebe pouted her puffy lips and folded her arms like a spoiled kid who didn't get the exact toy that they had wanted. Her persuading tactics had seriously gone downhill since High School though. She was going to have to do better than that._

"_I have to work."_

"_It's Sunday, no you don't."_

_I slid my fingers around my excruciatingly hot coffee and began to contemplate how to convince her to let me win, unfortunately she had been doing the same thing._

_She gave me her perfected Mona Lisa half smile and grabbed for one of my cold hands with her own. "I wasn't supposed to say anything, but I'm really asking you on behalf of Kenny. He told me that he had a surprise for you."_

_I raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Did he tell you what it was?"_

_She grabbed for her own coffee and took a small girly sip, then placed it back down on the table, looking at me with dramatic eyes. "He didn't, but he did tell me that it was going to be really good. He said you'd like it."_

_I couldn't tell if she was telling the truth, but knowing Bebe, she usually didn't disappoint. Plus, I owed her. Kenny and Bebe had always been supportive of me for these past years. Never once did they look at me like his leaving was my fault. They made it a point to let me know they knew it wasn't. But I was wasn't so sure. "Fine, I'll think about it."_

_Her half smile grew into a wide grin and she leaned across the table to give me a grateful hug. I gave in and wrapped one of my arms around her back to return the gesture, but her body stiffened and I became stuck in an awkward position. My first instinct was that she didn't want me to hug her, but then she pulled back and I caught a glimpse of her wide, alarmed eyes. I eagerly turned to see what it was that had her so fixated, but I saw something I didn't quite know what to make of at the time._

_Randy Marsh's unmistakable beat up van was pulling through Main Street. That alone wasn't really odd, but what was, was the attention it was getting. There were people who had momentarily paused whatever it was they were doing just to stare as the car drove by. Apparently Stephen Stotch found it interesting too, because he seemed intent on tailing Randy the whole way. I silently wondered if Randy had done something stupid on television again, but that idea faded once I realized he was arguing with someone I couldn't see in the passenger seat…unless he had recently been diagnosed with some split personality, in which case he probably shouldn't have been driving out in public. I watched curiously for a few more moments until finally, the car sped up and out of sight and the strange scene lost my interest._

_I turned back to Bebe with an amused smile, but then it became a concerned one when I noticed she was compulsively mixing sugar-free sweetener into her coffee. Normally, she drank her coffee black. Bebe craned her head up to look at me._

"_So _are_ you coming to the party tomorrow night or _what_?" Her tone was aggressive as hell, and a yes spilled impulsively, nervously, from my lips._

"Um, Kyle, you're not having a stroke are you?"

Without lifting my head, my eyes flicked toward Stan's dark face and realization dawned on me. The light bulb clicked on in other words.

Stan was the "surprise". For some reason, I had been expecting something more x-rated from Kenny but this; this was just as fucked up, maybe more.

I looked down at my numb hands and began to exhale. "Did you by any chance drive down Main Street yesterday with your dad?"

Stan shifted on his feet again, and shoved his hands inside his coat pockets. "Yeah…why do you ask?"

I blinked. "No reason, but, Stan?"

He sighed. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you something else?"

"I guess."

I raised my head and fully turned my shoulders and neck to look at him. "Dude, why did you stay when I asked?"

He let out a deep, shaking breath. His silence made the night air feel even more cold, and not a nice, calming cold… but a stabbing cold. "Because you asked me to, asshole," he muttered.

"But you hate me."

He stood there for a second and looked resentfully at me. "Yeah, well I _want_ to. You have no idea."

I searched for a way to respond to this, something acceptable, but my word bank was empty. "So you don't hate me?" I asked slowly, cautiously.

"I guess not…no," he paused and took his hands from his pockets, dropping them pointlessly to his side, "And do you hate me?"

"You're not my favorite person in the world," I admitted quickly. He didn't look taken aback, just thoughtful again.

"I don't_ hate _you Kyle, and I never meant to make you so miserable…but I don't believe you when you say you had nothing to do with it."

For fraction of a second I thought he knew; that he had finally learned the truth, the shit awful truth, but then he opened his mouth again.

"I mean, what's haunted me the most is the i-image of you and h-her, together," he stammered. His eyes watched me with an immeasurable sadness. Fuck him, he still didn't know.

Slowly, I stood up from the plastic chair, rising to meet him on the same level. We stood quiet in the silence of the dark night, neither of us daring to meet the others eye. While he stared at the floor, I kept my eyes on him. Through the faint yellow light coming from inside, I could see his face almost clearly. What's funny is that what struck me more than the bruises above his eyes was how he had barely changed. He still looked like Stan Marsh, the vulnerable, angst filled seventeen year old who pined for the black-haired girl he sat behind in home room, even when she had belonged to someone else; the same guy who was loved by everyone, including me, but never knew it. It used to make me so sad to see him like that, but now it made me strangely content, to see he was the _same_ only taller and better dressed. I almost told him everything right there.

But then I thought of something even better.

Before I could really think out the consequences of what I was about to do, I leaned forward and grabbed for his arm.

His eyes widened. "Kyle, what are-" Not giving him time to speak, I did what I knew I would regret. I stepped away from him and grabbed the sliding door handle with my other hand. I opened it and walked inside, pulling him through with me. I knew that if I let go, he'd probably follow me anyway. At least I hoped.

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"Do you even know where you're going?"

I sighed. "Just keep an eye out for a large tree stump."

He leaned back in the passenger seat and turned to stare out the window. A lot of help he was, the tree stump wasn't even on that side.

I kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel, as my cramped car struggled to go up the steep mountain passing. It's what I get for buying the Japanese car. On both sides, the trees and the spaces between them were completely black, the only light coming from my car's headlights.

I searched for the stump frantically, knowing it was possibly my only chance to fix this, and usually I wasn't one to be impulsive.

"What's the point of this Brovfloski? I should get back to Kenny's. He has my car."

I tried not to pay him too much attention. He just needed to hold out for a little while longer. "I'll take you back afterward, just calm down."

"Calm down. How can I? I feel like I'm sitting it a tin can. If a Volkswagen came up from ahead, it could smash this thing you call a _car_ to pieces."

Again, I tried to ignore him. "Shut _up_."

"Look!" Stan pointed out into the distance, and I quickly gazed into the direction in which his finger pointed.

"You see the stump?"

"Uh, no. It's the ditch I fell into yesterday morning."

I rolled my eyes. "I heard about that...didn't know the idiot tourist was you."

"Shut up," he muttered back.

I smirked, content with myself. We drove on for what felt like another mile in silence. Then I saw it. I pulled the steering will quickly to the left, causing us to swerve violently off the main road.

"Oh shit Ky-" Stan was cut short as we turned onto a dirt road covered in brush and undergrowth. The car rocked up an down as it agressively drove over fallen branches. All around us was complete darkness, and I struggled to keep from running off the road and into a tree. That was the last thing I needed.

"Are you taking me to sacrifice to some World of Warcraft geeks or something?"

"Something like that. Just keep look out for a bright light, alright?"

He didn't answer.

The road became less and less rough as we drove on. The trees became less dense too, and I knew that we were getting so close.

"Is that it?" he asked with disinterest.

"Yeah...it is." I breathed deep as we finally pulled out from an opening in the trees and into a large clearing. It was like I remembered. Big and bright.

As we pulled up to a section paved with cement, I could tell Stan was beginning to gain interest. I kept my eyes on the house too. The house was one giant piece of art. It was an enormous triangular two-story structure. It had a large balcony and deck that was as high as some of the trees, and it spread out to the point that it needed to be supported by iron columns. The house itself had no walls, only glass covered the house. Even it's roof was partially made of glass. The first story was blue with the reflection of a swimming pool's glow. A black metal fence and tall trimmed hedges bordered the house's perimeter.

I twisted the key and turned off the engine of my car so that we began to drown in silence. Stan finally looked over at me, his face unreadable. Mine probably was too.

"A house. You brought me to see a house. _Really_?"

I nodded, but he probably didn't see it. "It's a really nice house."

He shrugged. "I've seen nicer in L.A," he paused and turned back to the window, "Who's house is this anyway? Are we trespassing?"

"Obviously we're trespassing."

"_Who's_ house is this Kyle?"

I didn't have time to answer, because I knew that he saw her the moment I did. She was at a large desk on the second story, immersed in typing on a computer. The light on the desk was the only light on inside the entire house, but it was enough to see her twirling her hair with her finger. She stopped typing for a moment and stared out into the trees across from her, completely oblivious that we saw her so clearly.

Then I heard the door slam, and the oblivion she had had only a second ago was gone. I felt a jolt of adrenaline pump through my body, and with frantic hands I searched for the key and the ignition. Panic made me look up once more, but she wasn't in the desk anymore, she was up and pressed against the glass, and I had no doubt in my mind that she saw us. I turned the key again and started up the screeching engine, ready to back up into the thick cover of the trees, but then I glanced to the passenger seat. It was empty. Stan had made the telltale door slam, and now he stood in front of my car in plain view. He watched her. She watched him.

Then, he began to walk forward, toward the house, and she was backing up toward the stairs.

I felt my heart sink lower and lower with each step he took toward Eric Cartman's house.

I knew I would regret it.

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Authors Note: So this chapter didn't turn out as great as I wish it had, but it was fun writing. It's purpose I guess was to show that there's a bigger story behind Wendy's letter, and Kyle does know something after all...oh an keep a look out for an update. I promise it won't take a month next time!


	8. Unspoken Things

**Chapter Seven: Unspoken Things**

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What are you doing? What the hell is wrong with you? Stop walking. Stop. Right there. Not another step. Now.

Who said anything can be accomplished if you just set your mind to it? That's bull. I could continue to yell at myself in my own head. I could continue to list the reasons why this was a bad idea. I could continue to think about that stupid day and the stupid people that were there with the stupid grins on their stupid faces.

But I couldn't get my stupid feet to stop walking.

Gravel crunched lightly beneath my shoes, and with each step I began to remember less about the reasons about why I couldn't do this and more about her. Her eyes. Her hair. The way she couldn't stop laughing even though we were supposed to be quiet, my parents sleeping just a room away.

Wendy.

Finally, it seemed that I had tortured myself enough, and I stopped. I stopped right at the foot of the wooden porch steps. For a moment, everything was quiet. When I should have been turning back, I made no effort to. My eyes searched the house desperately, yearning to see her, her figure. The moment I did I see it I promised that would be that and I would go back to the car. It would be the end of it. If I just caught a glimpse of her then I could move on.

So I waited. I felt frozen in time, and as the seconds past by I felt as if that was really the case….because no one was coming downstairs. She wasn't coming. I was losing my patience, and I felt a sting of fear. Then I gave up. The wind was knocking against me, and I began to turn with it. The car was only ten feet behind me, if that. Just a few steps and I could forget again.

Then the light turned on.

I watched as her shadow made its way down a narrow staircase, until it disappeared and was replaced by something even more frightening. More beautiful.

She stopped at the foot of her stairs, and she watched me through the glass. I knew she could see me much more clearly than I could see her. But it was enough. Her dark eyes stared at me with obvious bewilderment, but not a bad kind.

My foot took a step forward, onto the first sturdy plank of the porch, and I watched as her eyes held the same focus.

Another step…then another….

Then backwards. I was going backwards. I was pulled off of the porch, back down the path. Shock flooded me and I forgot what it was I had been thinking about, where I was, and who the hell had their warm hand around my arm. Squeezing. The distance between me and the house grew, her figure retreating as well. Without warning, the gripping force let go of my arm and pushed me through the open car door into the passenger seat of a shitty foreign car. The door slammed behind me. He walked around the hood and then slid into the driver's seat as if nothing had just happened. Astonished, I looked over at him. I couldn't even blink.

Kyle.

Before I could even find words, the car peeled out of the driveway and back into the cover of the looming trees. We sped through the dirt road that was hidden in overgrown ferns, both of us silent except for the occasional deep breath. I was too confused to be mad. I was too confused to feel anything but more confusion.

Eventually we hit the main road, and clarity finally seeped through.

"Stan, I…"

"'The the FUCK was _that_?! Are you crazy?!"

He didn't reply, so I went on.

"It was a sick thing to do Kyle! I didn't know you had such a twisted sense of humor. I_ told_ you I don't hate you. I _told_ you I'm sorry…but that wasn't _enough_? I mean, hell, I shouldn't even have been the one to apologize!"

"That's not it at all Stan. You have it all wrong."

"Seriously? You're going to pull the 'Stan's crazy' thing again? That was _her,_ Kyle. You should know that I still…I still…"

Anger had taken me over to the point that I couldn't speak, couldn't think. So I just looked at Kyle, waiting for him to say _Sorry I screwed up. You don't deserve this. Want pack of cigarettes on me? _Of course it never came. Instead he just seemed to be a cold statue, an empty shell.

"I'll take you back," he breathed.

"Back _there?_"

He tightened his hands and shook his head. "No."

Back where?

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August 22/ Monday/ Callahan Advertising

I had completely forgotten why I had gone into advertising. Back when I was a sophomore in college it seemed so perfect. It was some lovely fantasy of just writing catchy jingles, creating fast food campaigns and sitting on my ass the rest of the time while everyone back home thought I was working incredibly hard for some high demanding job. Sure, back when I first moved to California and started as an intern it was a big challenge, but I enjoyed it...really. I was perfectly happy to go to work everyday and just hand out coffee and donuts, as long as the art department staff let me watch their "creative process". I use to try and help out by offering tips for a slogan or jingle, but after being ignored, or worse, given some snarky comeback I realized that I was wanted to be seen on not heard. That's how it was for about five months, until one day I got fed up and ridiculed Jim Finley for his Harbucks campaign pitch (it involved a singing coffee pot) unknowingly in front of Ronald McLeod himself. The next day I was called to his office and offered a full time job. I even got to help on the new Harbucks campaign. I had "fresh ideas" as Ronald put it. That job became my life, and it paid off. On my third, I will emphasis THIRD, year with the company I was given the Art Director position.

That was my life. I was the guy who created the talking coffee _cup_ for Harbucks. His name is Java Joey. He's on billboards. He sings _and_ dances.

The point of me telling all this? There is none. Because after all that, ahem, hard work I ended up here, pretending to listen to _Molly _who was in the middle of telling me how much she makes a year. The guy who created Java Joey AND his iconic theme song is now in charge or firing poor Molly here, who didn't seem to be having a good day anyway. Maybe I would just wait and fire her tomorrow, for my sake.

"We really are happy to have you here Mr. Marsh," she finally finished.

"Huh?"

"I said we're all happy to have you here. If you have any more questions about Callahan Advertising then just come find me here, in my office." Is that what she called it? It looked like a storage closet.

I gave her my reassuring smile, and she took the bait. Molly, who looked to be pushing forty, led me to a small desk in the corner complete with a fold out chair. This is where I would be making my notes about the company and it's lively employees, and how lively they were. After a few minutes of awkward small talk, Molly handed me some paperwork I would have to go over, and I'm not going to lie, it scared me.

"Would you like anything to drink? I could have Andy get you something."

"Andy?"

"The intern. She's a shy little thing, but you should find her somewhere around her. It should be easy, this place is much smaller then what I'm sure you're use to."

You have no idea. "Thank you Molly. If I have any questions I'll find you, and if I get hungry I'll hunt for Andy."

She smiled and nodded, then disappeared from the narrow doorway, leaving me alone with a mountain of paper work I was positive I wasn't even qualified to look at.

"Okay...here we go."

I had managed to get through only one or two budget documents when the shy little intern popped by.

"Oh! Sorry, usually this office is empty so I ssumed I could eat my lunch and...wow I'm sorry, just carry on please." I looked up at the girl who I decided had to be Andy. She looked like she was sixteen, but dressed like she was fifty judging by the pearls and turtleneck. She was short, thin and pretty. Her dark eyes matched her dark hair. She smiled nervously, and wouldn't return my stare. "I'll be going now..."  
Like a reclusive cat trying to avoid anyone petting it, she turned away and began out the door.

"Wait, I'm actually kind of lonely in here. Maybe you could give me some company?"

"But I have food. It's rude to eat in front of someone who doesn't have any..."

I smirked. "I'm not going to steal your tofurkey or anything."

She nodded and quietly took a seat on the fold out chair across from me. She barely made a sound.

"So how old are you?"

Andy looked at me as if I had just said something really awkward. Maybe I had?

"I'm twenty."

"Well, nice to meet you Andy."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh, uh, Molly told me about you."

"Oh," she mouthed. We were silent for some time after that. She was nice enough company. I reluctantly went through paperwork while she ate her obviously organic lunch. Sushi and all. When she had finished I expected her to just leave without saying a word, but she didn't. She packed all her trash into a paper bag and then folded her hands on her lap...staring at me.

It took me awhile to actually notice. "Can I help you?"

She chewed on her lip. "You're a lot younger than we had expected. I mean, are you _really_ Art Director?"

"I'm actually forty six. So this," I pointed to my face, "Is all the work of brilliant Californian plastic surgeons."

She laughed really girlishly. "Liar. How old are you really? You owe me since I told you."

"I'm twenty eight."

Her eyes widened. "Wow, twenty eight and already Art Director?"

I nodded.

"Are you married?"

"I liked you more when you didn't talk. Let's go back to that."

"I was just wondering. I know that in eight years I'd like to be married."

"How ambitious. Congratulations."

"I have a point here"

"And?"

"Well, sine you aren't married you can't know how it feels to lose the person you planned on the spending the rest of your life with. You see, Molly has. She lost her husband, Mr. Callahan, last year in a car crash and it left her a heartbroken. The only reason she tried keeping this place from going bankrupt is because it's all she has left of her husband. So, what I'm saying is...go easy on her please. I could care less if you let me go, I'm just an intern."

I watched her with astonishment, and embarrassment. "I didn't know that."

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to," she mumbled.

"But, I do know what it's like to lose-"

"Mr. Marsh?"

Andy and I looked to the doorway, where the receptionist stood, arms folded. "You have someone in the front who claims they have some business with you."

"Really?" Who even knew where I was working? Only Kenny....unless Kenny told Kyle about it. But he wouldn't dare show his face here today, especially after last night. Yeah, it had to be Kenny. I grinned. "Okay I'll be right there." The receptionist smiled and then left. I turned to Andy who was grabbing for her stuff.

"It's nice meeting you Mr. Marsh. I look forward to working with you for the next few weeks," she said quietly as she got up from her chair.

"Same here Andy, and just call me Stan. I'm really not that old."

She flashed me a smile. "Okay. See you later_ Stan_."

"Yeah, bye." We both left from the small office, but going in opposite directions. I followed the receptionist, anticipating seeing a hungover Kenny who would no doubt ask me where the hell I went last night. To which I would reply Kyle dropped me off my hotel. He'd probably laugh or something and then have me buy him lunch. I could handle that.

The receptionist led to the compact front lobby, where she took a seat at her desk. I barely made it through the doorway.

In the lobby, there was no shamelessly giddy Kenny to be seen. Someone else stood where he should have been standing. Someone who was much more easy to see without dark glass between us.

"Hi Stan," she whispered.

"Hey Wendy," I whispered back.

"...are you busy?"

Yes. "Not really. No."

"Okay, well c'mon," she stepped forward and clasped one gloved hand around my wrist, "I know this great restaurant just a few blocks away."

All I could do was stare at her, and feel her hand on my own in that familiar, pushy way.

"Okay."

--------------------------------------------------

The snow didn't fall. It refused to. Instead, the sky was clear and blue. It felt so wrong. But how could the sky be what I was thinking about at that moment? I have no idea how.

This woman with coal black hair pulled me through the crowds, past the bus stops and across the streets. The entire time she was ahead of me, her hand pulling on my own. I willingly followed her. I didn't have a choice. I never had.

I didn't even realize it when we were no longer outside, but standing in the entrance of a small Italian restaurant. Thousands of people went along with their lives around us. But mine seemed to have stopped. I watched her as she talked to the waiter, who she seemed to know. The waiter led us to a small booth adjacent to a wide and tinted window.

It wasn't until we sat down that she let go of my hand, and once she had it was as if the coma like state I had been in faded away. I wanted to be angry and say something that could hurt her, but then she smiled. A smile that felt so natural crept up on my face. It was the first genuine smile I'd made since arriving in Colorado. Since arriving home.

"Are you hungry?" She asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No."

"Thirsty?"

"No."

She seemed stumped. "Please let me order something for you? It would make me feel less awkward."

"Water."

She grinned. "Water it is."

The waiter stopped by, and Wendy pointed at the menu, telling him exactly how she wanted everything. She had ordered an ice tea with lemon, a salad without tomatoes, bread sticks, salt packets and a water for me. The way she talked to him was so confident, as if ordering an appetizer was the most important thing on her mind at the moment. But the way she would glance her eyes at me while the waiter repeated everything told me that wasn't the case. He left. She smiled. I waited.

"How long have you been in town?" She tried hard to make her voice sound soft.

"Since Saturday."

"Are you staying in Denver?"

"Yes."

"How are you?"

Okay. "Great."

"You look good. I like your hair longer like that." She didn't take her eyes off me.

"Thanks. I did it myself."

"You did a great job."

"I was lying," I smirked.

"I know," she laughed.

I knew I should have told her she looked good too, because, well she did. She looked so different. Her hair was shorter, at her shoulders. Long wisps of it fell in front of her eyes. She would push it back with her long fingers. She did it seventeen times in four minutes, each with the same hand. Her right.

"How are your parents?" I asked absentmindedly.

"They're good. They don't yell at each other quiet as much anymore."

"Mine too."

"Your parents didn't yell that much," she said with a twinge of humor.

"Yeah, well they never did when you were around. They actually_ liked_ you."

She nodded her head. "Mine hated you."

"I gave them good reason." She laughed loud at that, probably remembering some unspoken time when I had accidentally broken a window at her house trying to get her attention. With rocks.

Her laughing faded though, and I felt myself sink. She looked up at me with sad eyes. "Stan...I didn't ask you here just to have lunch."

"Mhm."

She looked down at her lap. "There was someone at my house last night. I didn't get the best look at him, but I didn't have to. I was so...so sure that it was you."

Wendy looked back up, pleadingly. She sought my answer, for me to say something. I didn't know how.

"Then it wasn't you? I could have sworn," her voice grew heavy and broken more and more with each word," that it was you. But it couldn't have been, and now I feel like such a Goddamn idiot. Maybe we should just leave it at this. You have work to get back too..."

She began to get up from her seat. I began to let her go, but I grabbed for her wrist, slowly pulling her back down. "We might as well catch up, right? I mean, when's the next time we're both going to be in Denver like this?"

She tilted her head, trying to see what it was I was trying to do. I didn't quite know myself. I just knew that I had her to myself, and I wasn't going to let her go yet.

"Okay." She sat back down, but didn't look at me. Instead she stared at the window, at a large bus that had come to a stop.

"I made that," I said quietly.

"You made the bus?" She looked over at me, alarmed.

"Uh, no. I made that stupid coffee cup that's smiling at you."

"You made that annoying Java Joey thing?" Her voice was light, but excited.

"And his theme song."

"Really? Wow. That stupid song always get's stuck in my head after a commercial."

"That's the point," I mused.

She grinned at me. "Ben loves it too, and he can't even drink coffee yet!"

"...Ben?"

Her grin fell, and was replaced by a hard pressed line. Her red lips clenched tight.

"Forget I asked."

"No it's not you...I mean it is you, but it's not."

She drew her eyebrows together, and looked up at me with unmistakable sadness. Suddenly, the question I had promised myself I wouldn't ask couldn't be suppressed any longer.

"Wendy...why did you do it?"

And then she broke down with sobs. She held her hand pressed over he mouth as if she wouldn't allow herself to speak, but I leaned over, drawing her fingers away from her lips. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"You never do," she added.

"Let's forget it."

"Shit, I mean, this isn't how it's suppose to work."

"Well how was it suppose to work?"

"Like the movies. Scripted."

"You had this whole thing scripted?"

"Yeah...but then you ordered the water and that through me off."

I laughed, but she just held her glare. Her hazel eyes were glossy and red already.

"You look really pretty Wendy."

She smiled. "I've really missed you. If I'd known you were in town..."

I couldn't understand why she was saying this. Telling me this. I didn't want to hear it.

"Just don't-"

She leaned over and pressed a gloved finger against my lips. "I have to, so let me," she paused, her mouth slightly open as if wondering what exactly to say,"I would have come to you sooner if I knew you were here. I've wanted to tell you why all this time..."

"That's what phones are for," I snapped.

"I wanted to say in person."

"So say it."

She propped up her chin with the backside of her hand. "The night before you read the letter I was in our apartment, and you were at your parents house because you thought it was more traditional. You remember the apartment, right? The one on Clover Street with the bookshelf you built and-"

"I remember the apartment."

"Well I was there with him. He had stopped by to tell me that he couldn't make it to the wedding, but that he wanted to give me my present in person. I told him to come in, and we began to talk. He said he was going away to New York for the summer. He said he wanted me to go with him. He told me he loved me. He... kissed me."

"I don't want to know, can't we just eat now? It was so long ago. Let's move one...you don't have to tell me." Please don't tell me.

She ignored me. "He told me I was beautiful and that I he was sorry he didn't tell me sooner. I got caught up in the moment and I kissed him back. By the time I had realized what was happening, I looked up and there was Kyle, watching us. I remember his eyes were so accusing and... cold. Before I had time to think, Kyle was on top of him. Kyle hurt him so bad, if I hadn't called the cops I'm sure he would have killed him."

She was talking so fast that I was sure she didn't even know what she was saying completely. I struggled to keep up with her words, and then I heard Kyle's name. What he did.

"So you and Kyle never..."

"God no, Stan. Kyle spent the rest of the night in jail...I spent the night in the hospital with Eric, because he asked me to. I was so torn Stan, I knew I couldn't marry you that day. I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. I told myself that no matter what, me and you would work it out. I would go and explain everything, that was my plan. But when I left the hospital, you weren't at the apartment. I spent the night at Bebe's. The next morning I went to your house but you had already left...to California. It was probably that moment I knew I had screwed up to big this time. The way your family looked at me made me feel so dirty Stan. I couldn't stay in the town," her voice broke for a moment,"The next day I went to New York with Cartman."

My head was filled with so many questions, but there were too many for me to even pick. Part of me wanted to just say _Okay, well thanks for telling me the real story. I appreciate. Now how about that salad?_ and then another part of me wanted to just leave right there. Leave her at that table alone.

"Cartman? You cheated on me with Eric Cartman the night before our wedding."

She shook her head. "No. We talked. He kissed me. I kissed back. Kyle walked in on us, I guess looking for you. The next thing I knew they were on the front lawn, Kyle knocking Eric to the floor....I would never cheat on you Stan."

Suddenly, all that resentment for Kyle that I had been harboring for all those years drained away. In it's place was the restored affection for him. Kyle had been the one to stand up for me.

I looked out the window, refusing to look at her. "I have a hard time believing that Wendy. But tell me this, in the letter you said you'd been thinking about what to say for a few weeks. What was that about?"

Wendy chewed on her lip. "I was in hysterics when I wrote that. I was looking for something to say that would make it easier for you to forget the wedding....I would have married you though Stan, just not that day."

I had to get out of there before I began to raise my voice, make a scene. I didn't want to make her cry anymore."I have to go. It was nice seeing you though," I stood up, "Thanks for the water."

She said nothing, only looking at her hands. "I'm sorry," she sniffed.

"I'm sorry too." I walked away from the table, past the other tables and then out the door. I was rushed with a sudden gust of cold air. For a moment I tried to remember what just happened. I smiled, and then headed up the street.

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The bellhop told me to have a good evening, and I returned the pleasantry. I was just in one of those weird moods. I felt depressed and giddy at the same time.

I walked the long hallway of the hotel until I got to my door at the end, 216. I should have felt more surprised to see him there, leaning against my door, but I wasn't. I shrugged. "You come all this way to see me?"

"I had to apologize about last night." He shoved his hands in his pockets. For the first time I was able to get a good look at him. He was wearing a different sweater today. It was green. His hair was wet, and red curls framed his face.

"Let's not worry about that right now. I'm starving...how about we go grab a bite? Maybe we can talk about what I'm going to wear to Shelley's wedding on Saturday.

He looked at me with obvious confusion. "You're going now? What changed your mind?"

"I'll tell you all about it as soon as I get something in my stomach. I'm thinking Chinese."

He grinned. "Sure, sure."

"Oh, and Kyle?"

"Yeah, dude?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"I think you know."

His smile faded. "Did you talk to her?"

"Yeah. I think everything that could be said was." I ran a hand through my hair out of habit.

He shook his head. "Don't believe that."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind, let's just get something to eat. I know a place."

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AN: Okay, so new update. Yay =] It didn't take a month this time. Anyway, this chapter probably just creates more questions rather then answering them. Stan got some info he should have heard a long time ago. Kyle has been mostly redeemed. Wendy makes her first official appearance. By the way, this is the last we'll be seeing of Denver, but not of Wendy OR Cartman. I think I need some Kenny in the next chapter...

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. And Stan owns Java Joey.


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